


An Intern's Guide to Parenting Aesir

by wickedwriter916



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child Loss, Childbirth, Depression, Description of Injuries, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Godparenting, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect, Miscarriage, Multi-Parent Family, Odin's A+ Parenting, Postpartum Depression, Raising a baby, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Unbeta'd, Unplanned Pregnancy, not AOU compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2018-06-04 08:33:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 37,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6650479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedwriter916/pseuds/wickedwriter916
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was all Thor’s fault, he was the start of it all, and the bringer of the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I sat on this one for a long time. I kept rolling it around when I would struggle with my daughter. I think I had intended for this to be more dark, more bleak, but it's not turning out that way, so its probably a good thing. I'm hoping the tags are accurate, if you believe I need to increase the warnings or add some, please let me know (I recently discovered a trigger and it was not a pleasant experience).

It was all Thor’s fault, he was the start of it all, and the bringer of the end.

 

At one point the conversation had to have gone like this:

“Dearest Jane, what is your opinion of offspring?”

Her answer, muffled and distracted warbled “offspring. You mean kids? They’re cool.”

Thor hummed his approval.

And that was that.

 

Darcy knew something was off, weird even. She and Jane were _synced_ , had been since New Mexico, and through everything they had a routine. Ice cream, enough candy to upset the most hardened Halloween veteran’s stomachs and the chick flick flavor of the month. The first night found Jane drooling into the cushions next to Darcy well before the opening credit sequence completed. The next with her head in the toilet after bad sushi at lunch. The evening after puts a hold on all period-centric festivities as there is a machinery meltdown in the lab and they spend the better part of the next four days salvaging the radio emitter, scouring for parts to fix the particle accelerator and build a bigger laser while Darcy tries to work a few spare spectrometers into the budget.

The next week Darcy finds Jane’s stash: two empty unfrosted cherry pop tart boxes in the utility closet (when Jane’s flavor is really brown sugar), cheese and peanut butter cracker wrappers overflowing out of her desk drawer, and there’s a positive pregnancy test stashed at the bottom of their tampon supply box under the bathroom sink.

Her reaction is less shock and more awe. Mostly because the receipt crumpled near it was from this morning. Also because this explains everything.

 

It doesn’t explain why Darcy goes two more periods without Jane saying a god damn word though. She watches her struggle in silence, doesn’t treat her any different and lets her make her excuses for missing ice cream, candy and rom-coms. In fact, Darcy doesn’t bring it up, she refuses to coddle her. If Jane doesn’t want any help (see: refuses to acknowledge that she’s up the duff with an alien baby) then Darcy isn’t about to start volunteering it.

What Darcy really doesn’t like is that Jane has completely shut Thor out. Between his off-planet adventures in the Nine Realms and his complete and blameworthy hand in this, the golden giant mopes around like a kicked puppy. The only time he appears less than melancholy is when he’s sparing with Captain America’s brainwashed Russian friend (she’s told his name is Sargent Barnes, but she’s never met him) and eating, which Darcy can wholly appreciate. So she cooks Thor’s Midgardian favorites, hearty meals that she can make in bulk, and if he happens to share his leftovers with Sgt. Barnes, well Darcy can’t stop him (it is absolutely not thank-you-food, she lies to herself).

 

Jane starts writing again, which is really Darcy starts writing Jane’s scribbles into intelligible, thought-provoking papers, and she becomes immensely grateful to Ink Equation. While Jane tries diligently to shatter the cosmos, Darcy daydreams of her name on the credit lines of _Cosmos_ (because fuck-yeah space!). But when Jane comes to work for the fourth day in so many weeks in sweat pants, Darcy’s pants actually, loose fitting and soft black with the small bleach stain near the right-side pocket, she about loses her shit.

“Jane, while appreciate your intelligence and burning need to destroy all the haters with your mad skills, if I have to dress like an adult, so do you.”

Jane scoffed and continued checking her readings, “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about Darcy.”

“Um, Jane, you haven’t worn actual pants to work in, like, weeks. And those sweat pants you’re wearing are mine, and I would really like them back for my weekend date with Jarvis, we’re highlighting the best of the Doctor and Rose Tyler.”

“Again, I’m not sure what you mean,” Jane mumbled making notations.

Darcy rolled her chair away from her workstation and stood, now beyond annoyed. “Jane, you’re wearing my pants, you could at least have fucking asked-“

“I don’t fit into any of my own pants Darcy!” Jane exploded, rounding on her friend.

Darcy sighed and quietly replied, “really.”

A tick formed in Jane’s jaw. “I’m pregnant.”

“I know, congratulations,” was Darcy’s empty sentiment (for her friend lying or for how hurt Thor had been she wasn’t sure).

Jane sunk on to the nearest desk corner, “how did you find out?”

Darcy rolled her eyes and pulled her chair over to her, “Jane you stashed your pee stick in the tampon box. I saw it the same day you took it.”

“And you never said anything? Th-that was months ago,” she spoke quietly.

“Yeah, I was waiting for you to tell me, it’s your baby-thing-alien,” Darcy chuckled trying for humor.

Jane wasn’t following, “you didn’t say anything to him did you?”

Darcy shook her head, looking puzzled, “no, but didn’t you? He’s been so down.”

Jane looked everywhere but Darcy.

“Jane, no, tell me you didn’t.”

“I told him I needed some time! We’re on a break!”

Darcy scoffed next, “seriously?! A break?! What happens when he finds out Jane? You know he’s a fertility deity, right?”

“I know, this is all his fault, I didn’t even think that cross-species procreation was possible, not realistically anyway, I mean what exactly do I have growing inside of me right now?” Jane worried the skin on the side of her thumb in thought.

“Can’t be any worse than the twilight baby,” Darcy quipped eyeing Jane’s stomach intently. 

Jane’s head snapped back forward, confusion marring her features, “what?”

Darcy wave her hand dismissively and looked away, “never mind. But Jane, you need to tell the big guy.”

Jane frowned and bobbed her head, “yeah, I know.”

“But first, we need to get you some new fucking clothes.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, thank you all who have read and gave kudos/comments to the first chapter. As promised here is the second, and I'll be working on more tonight now that school finished up. This is unbeta'd, and I tried to catch all of the errors, and I know that the tense changes a little from the start through the middle but I'm trying to remain consistent throughout but it's something that I'm working on.
> 
> Enjoy!

Darcy forced Jane to tell Thor she was pregnant with his space baby after a long afternoon buying what maternity clothes Jane could tolerate, and whatever else two and three sizes larger than her normal size. She’d take it as a victory on the day, if only because she got her fucking pants back.

She also knew that however the conversation had gone, it had gone well enough, judging by the sounds of joyous copulation that floating through the door to Thor’s quarters. Darcy was more than fine with that; it gave her the opportunity to clear out Jane’s hidden stash, reorganize the lab and sort/translate more of Jane’s notes for her paper. She was only interrupted during her working lunch by a muscular brunette with a man-bun.

“Excuse me,” he started, knocking on the side of the lab door, “you wouldn’t happen to know where Thor is?”

Darcy startled only slightly before turning to look at him through smudged glasses, “Oh, sorry, no he’d be with Jane, in his room,” she articulated with a wink and a twitch of her eyebrow.

He looked confused for a moment, “Uh, isn’t this,” he leaned back out of the door, evidently to read the name plate, “Dr. Foster’s lab?”

Darcy nodded, “It is, I’m her assistant, Darcy,” she punctuated with a little wave.

His smile held the ghost of a leer, like he wanted to flirt with her but wasn’t sure how, and ended up looking slightly coy. “I’m James,” he said with bright white teeth.

Despite his lack of skill, Darcy felt a slight flutter nonetheless, “Well it’s a pleasure to meet you, James.”

This time his smile was genuine, “likewise,” and he departed with a wink.

 

Darcy had the apartment to herself for the weekend, which worked well for her, on top of completing the laundry list of chores on the fridge (laundry included) she got to prepare and freeze a couple of easy meals. She binged her favorite Doctor Who/Rose episodes, wept openly and even enjoyed a lavender bath bomb after a rare visit from her battery operated boyfriend.

Jane returned Monday morning with enough time to shower, throw up after brushing her teeth too vigorously, and to fight with Darcy over breakfast (“No Jane, just because you puked doesn’t mean you can’t eat, you need to eat. _E.T. need food_.”). She was pleased to see Darcy’s progress from the end of last week, and they jumped into the day with a bright outlook and a happy disposition.

And then Heimdall called about a disturbance in Muspelheim, and then Thor went off-world.

And Jane lost her light.

 

“I swear to fucking god I will turn the laser onto the next person who tells me congratulations.”

 

It got worse when Thor did come back. Because he knew that Jane was upset (she did turn the laser on him), but because everything he tries to do just compounds upon the misery that hung over the lab.

And then a murder bot that Tony built in another dimension (multiverse? Fuck yeah science!) decided that this earth looks perfect for his kingdom, and Thor suited up with the rest of Earth’s mightiest.

“Don’t you dare go out there,” Jane growled at him, once again in Darcy’s fucking sweat pants.

Thor looked torn, “Jane, I cannot leave Midgard to fend for itself, it is under my protection, therefore I must eradicate this supposed dictator.”

“But it could come at any time now,” she said rubbing her low stomach protectively. She had dropped last week and Darcy had been playing chicken with the calendar since Jane has refused even the most basic of prenatal care. If Darcy hadn’t started crushing and adding vitamins to their breakfast every morning she is sure that Jane never would have taken it upon herself to take them. Bonus: her own hair and nails are on fleek.

“Someone will stay here and protect you, Darcy will be by your side, as always,” he smiled fondly at the girl. “And I will request that Sgt. Barnes keep watch over you both, in case we fail our endeavor,” he nodded at the solution.

“What do you mean fail?” Jane hissed as his hand warmed her stomach then winced as the child moved, straining to its father’s touch.

“It is merely a precaution,” he amended and dropped a lingering kiss to both of their brows and moving swiftly from the room.

 

Four hours after Thor left with the other Avengers Jane’s water broke all over the kitchen floor.

 

Their very limited medical staff managed her well enough so far, but when Jane starts screaming with every contraction Darcy comes running in through the waiting room door, and James isn’t far behind her.

“Oh it’s you,” is all she can manage to say to him before Jane has her hand in a crushing grip and is cursing a blue streak.

James gets threatened with castration and dismemberment in Thor’s absence, but he takes it in stride, alternating between letting Jane squeeze his arm and laying the cool side on her sweating forehead. Ultimately Darcy needs to pull him from the room after Jane attempts to bite through his metal arm and curse Thor’s name up one side and down the other while the nurses hold her down.

Darcy doesn’t even notice that her breathing is labored until his hand is squeezing her shoulder and he’s stooping to look her in the eye, “are you alright?”

She swallows and takes a second to look over at his arm, there was no damage, she didn’t really think there would be (but seriously, Jane?!) and nods blowing a puff of air to move the hair from her vision. “Yeah, I’m good, but I should probably go back in there.”

His eyebrows furrow deeper in concern, “are you sure that’s a good idea? Biting me is one thing, but-“

Jane’s blood curdling scream sets Darcy into motion before James can finish. She’s smacked bodily on the doors before they swung open and she bolted back through.

The doctors and nurses are wheeling Jane down the hall on a gurney and shouting nonsense at each other.

“Wait, no, wait! Where are you taking her?”

One of the nurses breaks off to run interference. “They’re prepping her for surgery, there are some complications.”

“What do you mean? Complications? No, I have to go with her, let me go with her!”

“I’m sorry ma’am, we can’t let you in there.” The nurse holds her firm, stronger than Darcy would have thought, as Jane disappears through the double doors labeled PRE-OP and her howls disintegrate into silence. The nurse’s grip lightens slightly, “there’s an observation window over the nursery, the baby will be there after its born,” she adds, almost as an afterthought before turning to rush and catch up to Jane.

Darcy isn’t sure how long she stands there, silently watching through those doors for any sign of Jane, a doctor, a nurse. James’ touch on her back is warm, but urgent.

“We have to move,” his arm moves and circles around to her waist, pulling her back through to the waiting area.

Darcy following numbly, quietly asks, “why, what’s going on?” it’s at this point that she realizes there’s a scary looking handgun in his metal hand.

James keeps pulling her toward the nursery, “Because Ultron just killed Steve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry! That was probably very unexpected, if you've made it this far and you haven't given, up have a little faith, and I'll see you all next Sunday.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, thank you guys for reading and sticking with this. I don't post WIPs at all bc I feel like I can never finish them, and I'm still stuck a few chapters out. This one doesn't feel all that long so im hoping to throw a mid-week update in, no promises though.
> 
> Happy mothers day to all the mothers of every variety out there.

Darcy gasps and trips and James whirls to catch her, the side of the gun pressing uncomfortably into her back. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she starts blubbering. Tears are welling in her eyes and spilling and she didn’t even really know the man, but he was James’ friend and James is Thor’s friend and-  
“Shh, shh,” he shushes her, dark blue eyes wild and afraid, “I need you to follow me, I need you to hold it together,” he says tersely. Sharply he bites out, “I need you to stop crying.” He releases his grip on her and from there Darcy can feel the blood circulating that she hadn’t noticed was cut off. “Please,” he whispers, “nothing is going to happen to you. Or Jane. Or the baby. I promise.”

  
She sucks in a deep but shuddering breath and nods her head furiously.

  
They post up outside of the nursery. Neither speak. Darcy stares intently through the windows, awaiting any movement from the door on the opposite side. She gouges little crescents into the paint wood of the windowsill until her nails crack and split.

  
James stands unmoving a foot in front of Darcy. He has a line of sight on both the door within the nursery and access door to the waiting room.

  
A soft ping sounds before the crisp voice of Jarvis chimes, “Sgt. Barnes.”

  
While Darcy appreciates the warning, she still jumps nearly a foot back in panic.

  
“Yes?” his tone hasn’t changed from terse to normal yet – maybe Jarvis had startled him too.

  
“You requested that I inform you of any further changes to the team’s status. They are in transit back to the tower.”

  
“What happened?” Darcy speaks up, eager to know if they were victorious.

  
“Lord Thor called upon the aid of his Asgardian comrades after Captain Rogers fell. They have defeated the Ultron threat.”

  
“Was anyone hurt?” she feels her voice quiver, she needs to know at this point.

  
There is a pause, “Media reports are varied: there are a large amount of civilian casualties, and many injured. Agent Romanov has sustained an injury to her shoulder, Agent Barton perforated both eardrums, shows significant damage to his left retina, and blood loss, and Sir has a spinal injury of unknown magnitude.”

  
They are silent again for a time, enough that when the door inside the nursery opens and they look upon Thor and Jane’s child the dried tear tracks on both of their faces moistened again. James reaches over tentatively and takes Darcy’s hand in his own, lacing their fingers and squeezing gently. She turns her head to look up at him.

  
“It’s going to be ok,” he says, still facing the window, then to her, “everything is going to be ok."

 

Everything wasn’t going to be ok, no matter how much she thought the universe owed them (Fuck you multiverse).

 

The Avengers were still in transit back to the tower when Darcy and James were admitted to Jane’s room.

  
Darcy’s first reaction was to scuttle over to the infant laying in the warming chamber, the pink and blue blanket wrapped snuggly around its wiggling form. She reached up to lift it from the carrier when James stopped her and steered her over to the sink, there was blood under her fingernails from the splinters in the wood. She frowned soaking them in hot water until it burned and tried to pluck the larger of the ones that she could see out.

  
James stared down at the infant dubiously. “What is it?”

  
Jane mumbled from her back on the bed, where she had her head turned away from them and the infant.

  
James’ head snapped up but he stayed silent and Darcy dried her hands and lifted the fussing infant from the table, cooing gently at it. “It’s a boy,” she indicated with her head to the placard underneath which read his details. Baby Boy Foster-Odinson. 10 lb. 14 oz. Length 22 in. Head 16 in.

  
James raised his eyebrows in surprise at the card and then asked quietly, as Darcy swayed and garbled at the crying infant.

“What’s his name?”

  
“I don’t care,” was Jane’s waspish answer.   
“Oh, everything is going to be fine Jane, Thor is ok, he’s on his way back now. You guys can think of a name together. Here, I think he’s hungry, do you want to feed him?” Darcy had swayed and shuffled over to where Jane lay staring at the ceiling tiles.

  
“No, I don’t want to feed him,” Jane pressed and held the nurse call button.

  
James stood in the corner watching the exchange silently.

  
“Ok,” Darcy smiled tightly, “maybe he’s wet, but he’s also probably hungry,” she made her way back to the warming table and looked around quickly for diapers and wipes. She found her supplies and turned to James, “do they have formula in the cabinets?”

  
He didn’t move immediately as he watched her gently unwrap the wailing infant and carefully work through changing a diaper, obviously her first attempt.

  
A nurse came into the room as Darcy was staring at the mess of black tar with abject horror.

  
The nurse coached her through the first diaper changing, and was instructing James on how to make a bottle with the proper formula measurements when the door opened and Thor rushed in to Jane’s side.

  
“My dearest Jane,” he spoke fondly, “Jarvis has informed me that our son was born.” He reached for her hand but she snatched it away to gesture weakly at the other room’s occupants.

  
James had just finished the bottle and had handed it to Darcy to administer when they looked up to see Thor.

  
“Hey there big guy,” Darcy cooed to Thor offering up his son to him. Thor took the child gently from Darcy and smiled brilliantly at her. The infant’s screams quieted to whimpers and then silence as his father held him in his corded arms. Darcy placed the bottle in Thor’s free and hand gently guided it to the baby’s mouth, who took it greedily. “What should we name him?” he asks his Jane.

  
Silence was her answer.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again thank you, everyone for the kudos and reviews from last week. So to date I only have six chapters completed and I start the summer semester tomorrow :( and I've been staring pretty much blankly at the screen the last few days and it's starting to feel forced and I don't like that. I'm hoping to knock out at least one chapter tonight without hating it. So if anyone has tips for keeping ahead of life and still writing I'm all ears.
> 
> Enjoy this installment, we're starting to get to the meat of it.

They bury Steven Grant Rogers in Cypress Hills National Cemetery on a Sunday evening after service. He gets a place here because what little money the Howling Commandos could spare after he disappeared into the arctic, they used to purchase the double lot and buried two empty caskets next to each other. Some of Steve’s veteran friends, James, Sam and Thor act as pallbearers, how James’ keeps his face stoic Darcy doesn’t know. They rest his casket on the dais and wait as the Father gives the final blessing. Darcy watches through bleary eyes, holding Thor’s hand tightly as the flag atop his casket is gathered, folded and presented to James. The three-man Honor Guard give him a three volley salute, as Taps plays out off of a set of portable speakers.

No one moves for the longest time. Then one of the pallbearers, a man from the 107st (which Darcy later learns was James’ unit) raises shakily from his seat and lays a hand on the bare coffin and mutters quietly, “excelsior.”

The breath the James releases from the side of the casket is unsteady, at best, at worse it’s a half-choked sob of rage and pain.

Thor waits with Darcy (or Darcy waits with Thor, she’s unsure really who needs to stay longer), until most of the attendees have gone. Sif, Fandral, Hogun and Volstagg all loiter some distance away, not close enough to be a distraction but obvious enough, now that everyone else has left, to Darcy that they are guarding the mourners.

“James,” Thor finally speaks up, now that they are alone. “I am truly sorry for the loss of your brother. I hope you find solace in his admittance to Valhalla, where they will sing of his victories in battle until we join him.” A thunderous clap resounded as Thor clasped James’ shoulder. “Should you every require anything, know you that you only need ask of it, and I will do everything in my power to grant it.”

James’ lips pursed and he nodded tightly, fingers digging into the fabric of the flag.

“Come Darcy, let us get home to Jane and the babe,” Thor said extending a hand to Darcy.

She turned and quickly moved into James’ space, arms banding around his. He tensed and shook. And then Darcy was rewarded with a one armed-squeeze (as much as he could give with his arms trapped). “’m here,” was all she could think to say before she pulled back. His arm lingered longer than she thought it would, and she got a rumbled “thanks, Doll,” in response.

She managed half a smile, barely, and reached over to take Thor’s arm as he leads them down towards the remaining vehicle back to the tower.

 

 

As it turns out, Hawkeye loses his eye, as well as his hearing. It works out ok, because he’s been able to read lips and sign for years, (and he takes it in stride while trolling unsuspecting agents, with a combination of “Speak up, I can’t hear you,” and “What?!”  in ever increasing volume). The eye fucks with him though. He inadvertently clips walls and door frames and hates the sign of weakness.

Natasha needed a three screws to mend the damage to her clavicle and scapula. She hates bed rest more than Clint and sneaks out to punish new recruits in the gym; she’s nearly convinced them that she can still take them on one-handed when Thor shows up and gives her an unimpressed look and gently reminds her that she is still on bed rest until the physician clears her for active duty. He reminds her of this at least once a day.

Tony’s spinal injury was of greater magnitude than Jarvis implied. He was nearly crushed inside his suit. (The how Darcy can live the rest of her life in peace, never knowing). He suffered several crushed vertebrae, which rendered him immobile from the hips down. He lost a portion of his right leg from the shin down, and fractured the femur of his left leg. He was in and out of consciousness the first few days after surgery, but all times thereafter he was glued to a tablet as a temporary workspace while he and Jarvis worked on motorized leg braces (which was better than Pepper – she melted her desk to molten trash).

 

Darcy didn’t see much of Jane (as she spent the first two weeks in the cushy hospital room recovering from her surgery and barely seeing anyone, not even Thor), and Wyborn Marek was a fussy baby; from the times that Darcy was permitted to take him from the nursery he would cry while she swayed him, and hummed every 90's classic that she grew up on (because the Smashing Pumpkins is mandatory for musical education) up and down the hall to his mother.

When Jane was finally released nearly a month after she delivered and approached Darcy haggard and wearing a puke stained shirt begging her friend to watch the baby for a few hours so she could just get some sleep, Darcy didn’t hesitate. She nodded enthusiastically, made grabby hands for Wyborn and snagged the overloaded diaper bag from her friend’s shoulder while waving her off for a nap.

Darcy changed the crying baby, happy to see a wetness indicator stripe on the diaper, applied a liberal amount of diaper cream to his reddened privates and stuck a soft rubber elephant in the direction of his tiny fists while she wrestled a new yellow pacifier from its packaging. It worked instantly. Wyborn stopped wailing and small suckling noises could be heard in the relative quiet. She sighed in relief and looked toward the infant, a few scant pounds heavier than he was at birth, “what to do now, little man?” she huffed.

Clean, as it turns out. Not that her apartment was messy, but it had been a while since she had gone over things. His eyes focused solely on her as she flittered around the space, his fingers squeezing and picking at the rubber toy. As she was putting the last of the dishes away she noticed he had fallen asleep in the portable swing. With a small smile, she straightened her kitchen towel on the counter and moved to prepare a bottle, measuring formula into a disposably liner and closing the lid on top, she could add hot filtered water from the sink tap when he woke up. Her task complete she moved to the couch next to him and began surfing through her work emails, drafting responses on what little she could figure on behalf of Jane and flagging a few for Tony.

The night proceeded in much the same fashion: Wyborn would stir and Darcy would make his bottle, before he was fully awake she would begin to change his diaper (playing chicken on whether or not he would pee on her) and gather him in her arms to feed him. Twice he puked, once all over Darcy and her couch, another on himself, luckily there was a spare onesie in the diaper bag so Darcy changed him and kept on keeping on. She had left over Thai for dinner and moved his swing to face away from the TV so she could watch the new Game of Thrones (on a much lower volume that she was used to) without feeling guilty. She decided to camp out in the living room with him so that she’d be closer to the kitchen and he only had two middle-of-the-night feedings that she handled with surprising ease. By morning she figured Jane would be good-to-go and she had nearly exhausted the baby wipes in the diaper bag after a poo explosion nightmare.

Jarvis let her into Jane’s apartment and she called out excitedly, “Good morning Momma-Jane, we’re home!”

Silence greeted them. Silence and a fucking bomb of clutter and dirty dishes and clothes. Darcy was disgusted, which was saying something.

“Jane?” she called out again, picking her way across the living room toward the bedroom in the back.

The bed was unmade and empty.

Fear set in before she could stop it. Darcy sank to the bed and looked around in desperation. “J?” she questioned, eyes widened.

“Yes, Ms. Lewis?” was his crisp reply.

“Where is Jane?” she hated the slight quake in her voice.

There was a distinct pause and then, “I am not at liberty to say, Ms. Lewis, her privacy protocols have been strictly altered.”

Darcy had the distinct impression that Jarvis didn’t like her, but she pressed her luck. “Um, could you please tell me when her privacy protocols were altered?”

“Twelve hours ago, Ms. Lewis.”

Twelve hours ago. When she dropped off Wyborn in an utter panic. Fuck a duck.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super sorry for the delay in posting this, I got caught up finishing school assignments until after one this morning and then some little girl is fighting through her canines and we didn't get all that much sleep. Thankfully she's napping now, so I can feel human again and knock out more for this (as we're now at Chapter 5 and I've only completed 7). 
> 
> Thank you all for your comments and kudo! If you've read any of my other stuff you'd see that I'm not big on WIP because I feel pressured, but writing this and all of the love and positivity that I've been getting even though this story is a giant ball of angst (I swear there's a happy ending!), has been aces guys. So thank you for your continued support, without which I would feel a little silly writing this.

Immediately after Jarvis dropped the bomb about Jane locking her out, she inquired if Thor was available. He was off world, and unreachable. So she reloaded the diaper bag, changed the baby into a fresh outfit and headed to the labs, making notes to Jarvis as she stomped around with Wyborn in a chest carrier, the diaper bag and portable rocker folded under one arm. She ordered more diapers, wipes, and formula. She charged it to Jane’s expense account (her baby, her money, she had snapped at Jarvis, he was slightly less shitty after that), and had it delivered to her place.

She also found that her lab access had been restricted. She could enter the floor level but none of the labs. When she asked Jarvis why, he reported that Jane had signed off on her transfer papers.

“Transfer to where?” she tried to keep the snarl out of her voice because Wyborn was starting to wail.

“Childcare assistant.”

 

Three weeks. Darcy watched Wyborn for three weeks. With no sign of Jane.

 

She wasn’t sure if she was more angry, or distraught over the entire situation. All of her calls went to voicemail, she received no replies to any text messages and her emails returned non-deliverable.  Thor remained off-planet, and Darcy felt really weird asking someone else to watch Jane’s baby so she could go yell up at the sky in the hopes that Heimdall would be gracious enough to send Thor back so he could take care of his own son (Darcy knew better, even in Norse mythology, men didn’t rear children, see: Odin’s A+ Parenting).

Wyborn woke her up screaming one morning after spending the better part of the night not wanting to be put in the rocker. Darcy was sleepwalking through making his bottle when the chimes in her apartment sounded softly. She cocked her head to one side and hummed grumpily.

“Ms. Darcy,” Jarvis began, he was a lot less shitty with her after he basically told her she’d been fired. “Doctor Foster returned to the building shortly before eight o’clock this morning.”

Now she was awake. “Jarvis, what the fuck?” she said now back in her room and changing Wyborn on her bed. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“The safety protocols which you enabled on your system prevented me from alerting you sooner as you had not achieved a minimum of six hours of sleep in the last twenty-four hours consecutively,” he sounded apologetic.

Darcy grumbled, losing her edge of anger with him, “Ok, sorry. Can we revisit those later?” she asked as Wyborn drank greedily from the bottle.

“Of course, Ms. Darcy.”

 

She didn’t bother putting on real clothes. She fed Wyborn, strapped him to the chest carrier and marched barefoot to the elevators and up to the laboratory levels.

Jarvis momentarily stopped her at the door, “I’m sorry Ms. Darcy, but your access is still restricted.”

Darcy gritted her teeth, “I need to give this baby to its mother. You can let me in for that, right?”

A beep sounded a second later and the doors whoosh open, and Darcy hit an eleven.

Jane was hovering over a keyboard typing furiously and then turned to scribble something on the giant white board to her left. She considered it for a moment before turning back to the computer to click and mouse scroll rapidly. She spared a look at the still open door and then eyed Darcy up and down. “What are you doing here with him?”

Darcy wanted to fucking throw things at her. “I came to drop off your son, Jane. The one that you left with me while you fucking disappeared!” she tried not to raise her voice (she really did).

Jane glowered at her in return. “I didn’t disappear, I had a lecture series through England.”

Darcy’s eyes widen, “a lecture series?! You can’t just abandon your child and your assistant and leave the country for three weeks to talk science to nerds in Great Britain, Jane!”

“But you’re not my assistant anymore, Darcy,” Jane scoffed.

“About that, when exactly where you going to tell me? And who is going to help you finish writing your-“ a throat clearing interrupts them.

“What’s the problem here, kids? Oh look, an actual kid,” Tony Stark says from the door behind Darcy. She frowned, she hadn’t known that he was out of the hospital, let alone mobile in a motorized wheelchair (good for him though, at any rate). Her snap back to Jane didn’t get the right amount of fierceness that she intended it to. Not when she sees who’s sitting at her workstation as she turns back to her former boss.

“Ian,” she said flatly. “I thought you were going to finish up your Masters.”

He looked up from her laptop sheepishly, “I, uh, did. We finished the paper in London. Set for publication in the quarterly,” he shrugged.

Darcy’s gaze landed back on Jane, her defensive posture, her glare at the child in the carrier. “Do I even want to know if you removed me from the credit line?” her snap sounded more like a weak shove, a miss really. “So you’re just going to reallocate me to nanny, because you don’t want to take care of your child?” she asked blankly.

Jane examined her nails and looked nonplussed.

Darcy pursed her lips and nodded, “right, okay then.” She turned and skirted around Tony with a quiet, “excuse me,” and continued down the hall to the elevator banks.

She held her head high as she turned to face them once more; Jane had already moved back to work, but Tony looked on at her in wonder. She pressed the button for her floor and waited as the doors slid closed. From there, she fell into what can only be described as an utterly epic wall slide, as tears spilled over her cheeks.

The doors opened on her floor and remained that way, her unmoving, baby Wyborn curled securely into her chest as she cried silently for a lot of different reasons.

That was how James found her.


	6. Chapter 6

James eyed Darcy with concern, “everything alright, Doll?” he asked reaching a hand down to her.

She shook her head and refused his hand. “No, no, it’s really not.” Fresh tears streaked down her face and her lip wobbled. All the while the baby slept peacefully.

He frowned and moved into the elevator to sit down next to her with enough space between them until she reached over and grabbed for his hand. He moved closer then, but still said nothing.

After several long minutes she cleared her throat a little and whispered, “I don’t know what to do.”

James nodded and struggled with words as the silence turned from strained to awkward. Finally looking at her he asked mildly, “y’wanna talk about it?”

She sniffed and quietly said, “kind of. Yes? I’ve been watching over him,” she indicated Wyborn with a nod of her head, “for the last three weeks, I haven’t actually spoken to another adult-type person except for Jarvis. Until today.” She said it like it was a shock to her. That she’d been isolated with an infant and she expected it to be not true, like a vivid nightmare.

James’ gaze turned from the empty hallway before them to the dozing child, he looked intently at his sleep slacked face and then at the rather large drool stain under his chin.

“Jane doesn’t want him,” Darcy continued. “She made him, and had him, and she dropped him off with me. No warning. Just poof, left. And now,” she chuckled bitterly, “now, she all but fired me and made responsible for this-this little human, half-god.” Her eyes bulged frightened and she turned to look at James. “How am I supposed to raise him?”

James looked equally as distressed at that and shook his head, “I don’t know.” They sat in silence for a longer moment, “um,” he continued unsure, “do you need me to do something?”

Darcy turned to him pleadingly. “I know this sounds bad, really bad, considering what I just told you, but can you please watch him for like 25 minutes so can shower and get the smell of sour milk away from me? I promise that I’ll will cook you something in return, I just need a little piece of sanity,” she begged, “please.”

James didn’t appear too frightened by the idea, but he uneasily said, “I haven’t held a baby since 1925.”

Now Darcy’s eyes widen, “that going to be a problem?” she asked eyes flicking to his metal arm, the fingers of his fist clenching and relaxing sporadically.

“No-I,” he started and then swallowed, his hand released hers to rub over the stubble at his jaw, “I don’t think so?” He looked back at her and shrugged, “where do you want to do this at?” He failed to hide the nervous timbre of his voice.

“Will it make it easier for you if we use my apartment? That way I won’t be far and I can start a pot of spaghetti sauce for you before I get washed up?” she was hopeful, overly so, she hadn’t thought that the prospect of a shower and comfort food would ever be so appealing.

He nodded a hair shy of enthusiastically and gracefully moved to his feet before he turned to gently reach under her elbows and help her to her feet. She swayed under the weight of the baby and her numb legs but they padded out of the elevator and toward her room.

Inside was the unmistakable stench of last nights soiled clothes and dirty breakfast dishes. Darcy blushed profusely at James’ wrinkled nose. “I’m so sorry-“ she started before he waved his hand and cut her off.

“It’s fine, um, y’wanna,” he looked scared now as the infant stirred on her chest. “Uh, how y’wanna do this?”

She moved into action before she could even register that Wyborn was waking up. Unclipping him from the holster, she had him settled on the couch cushions and had a diaper and wipes ready to change him. James watched on in fascination as the baby slowly came to wakefulness, how his little arms swung and batted at the air; how his mouth pulled into a frown and his eyes squinted in dislike. After, she buttoned him back up, she stuffed a curved pillow between him and the edge of the couch and rushed toward the kitchen.

“Uh, wait, no, is he gunna be ok there, by himself?” James asked nearly diving in front of the child, his arms wide and palms up.

Darcy answered incoherently from the kitchen but James managed to make out “doesn’t” and “roll” but he settled his leg against the pillow and immediately felt better. She returned to the living room and weaved around him, shaking a prepared bottle of formula. Darcy reached down and picked up Wyborn from the cushion and indicated to the pillow while asking James, “do you mind?”

He snagged the pillow between his hands and squeezed it as he fell back onto the couch. Darcy moved in front of him and folded the pillow around his ribs, creating a cocoon. She laid the fussing infant down and held the bottle up to James’ face. “Feed him this, if he starts coughing pull it away and bring him to your shoulder, “she draped a rag over it, “when he finishes do the same, rub his back until he burps. He shouldn’t fight sleep for too long after that. I’ll hopefully be in the shower at that point, so you can put him in his swing, and just stay within ear shot,” she smiled unconvincing at James’ horrified expression.

Darcy fled to the kitchen. She pulled a frost covered container from the freezer and set it in the microwave to defrost and made her way quickly through the stack of dishes in the sink. Once that was done she transferred the still frozen container or sauce into a lidded pot and set it over a low flame on the stove. She peeked her head into the living room to see James still feeding Wyborn. “Hey,” she called softly, “I’m hoping in the shower. Won’t be long, we’ll eat after?” she didn’t wait for his reply once she saw his still terrified face, just hustled into her room and gathered up all of the dirty laundry into a pile next to her overflowing hamper.

Her shower was hot, but hardly relaxing. She wished she’d have at least taken the time to brush out her hair before lathering as she was pulling strands free from their tangles by the handful. As soon as she felt somewhat like her normal self she shut off the water and rushed through drying off. She shimmied into skinny jeans, a camisole and a bulky sweater, foregoing a bra for time and comfort’s sake and hurried back out.

She padded quietly through the living room to the sight that greeted her: Wyborn laying on James’ chest, his tiny face tucked into the crook of his neck and breathing out tiny happy noises. James’ eyes were closed and he was murmuring something, Darcy could see his lips moving, but couldn’t make out the words. Before she could startle either and ruin the scene before her, she moved into the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately updates may slow after this week; I only have one other completed chapter done and maybe half of the next one? I'm losing steam but it has a lot to do with work/school/child (not in that order). The ideas are all still there, desire to write is as well, but the exhaustion has taken hold (Funny story: my daughter now mimics what I sound like when I'm snoring.. cheeky toddler).


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are the absolute best, seriously. This chapter is (hopefully) a little better emotionally.

Darcy made spaghetti (enough for a normally large Darcy-serving and three Thor-sized-servings) and actually set the table with nice silverware instead of the plastic ware she had begun to favor in the last three weeks. When she finished up, she padded a little heavier into the living room, approached James and called his name.

His eyes snapped open almost immediately and he spared a look down at the sleeping child.

“Dinner’s ready, so,” Darcy said while she motioned toward the kitchen.

“Yeah, I’m right behind you,” he rumbled as he slowly stood and moved Wyborn to the swing next to the couch, lifted it easily by the supports and carried it to Darcy. She indicated for him to put him on the floor in between their two seats at the small square table. James inhaled deeply and smiling warmly said, “That smells delicious.”

Darcy blushed and waved him off, “it’s leftovers really; but it’s a family recipe which can only be made in bulk,” she rambled. When she couldn’t think of anything else to add she insisted he sit while she served up the food. She placed a full plate in front of him, her full plate at her setting, and then a larger pot on a trivet on the table nearer to him than her. When Darcy returned with a pitcher of water and glasses for the table, James had already worked his way through half his plate. He chewed sheepishly and Darcy did her best to hide a smirk of pride.

“M’ figured Thor prob’ly told ya how much we enjoyed your spaghetti the last time you made it,” James said as he washed his bite down with a large gulp of water.

Darcy blushed but met his eyes, “he may have mentioned it. He may have also mentioned that you sparred him for the rights to the next batch.”

Now James looked slightly reddened.

“Don’t worry,” Darcy continued, “I won’t tell him about you getting this if you don’t,” she winked and felt a small flutter of normalcy course through her with the simple flirting.

James’ smile broadened and Darcy’s insides clenched, “thanks Doll.”

“Anytime James-“

“Bucky,” he cut her off almost absently. He stilled for a moment before he shook his head and continued, “sorry, it’s just that nobody calls me James, they usually call me Barnes, or Sergeant, or whatever nickname Stark thinks is clever. Stevie was the only one who called me Bucky. And now, he’s gone. And I jus’ thought,” he swallowed and set his fork down, “that no one’s ever goin’ ta’ call me Bucky again,” his accent thick and voice full of emotion.

Darcy remained silent for a time, politely swirled noodles around her fork. “You introduced yourself to me as James,” she shrugged at a loss.

He nodded in assent, “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“Can I call you Bucky? If you want, or not. But I’d like to call you Bucky if you’d like me to call you Bucky,” Darcy bit her lip to shut herself up.

A slow grin lit Bucky’s features, “yeah Doll, I’d like that a lot,” his eyes crinkled before a beautiful smile broke out across his face.

Wyborn giggled and cooed from the swing.

Both adults froze, panic spread across their skins like frost.

“Uh, shou- we – uh,” Bucky started and Darcy shook her head feverishly to shut him up. He snapped his lips shut and didn’t move.

Darcy gave Wyborn a pretty hard side-eye, watched closely as his little fists moved around in front of his face, before he brought one down to gum at.

He entertained himself with this until the gumming turned to sloppy sucking and then he dropped off to sleep once more. Darcy noticed the small swinging of the cradle and saw that Bucky had reached over and toed the edge of the swing gently to sway the infant back to sleep. Darcy’s surprise shown on her face because Bucky grinned smugly with tight lips at her before he ducked his eyes and dug back into his reloaded plate.

They finish in silence and Darcy only packed one Thor-sized portion for Bucky who fussed enough over taking home leftovers that she could eat that she contemplated leaving it outside of his door if he put it down and pretended to forget it one more time.

“Ya know,” he started as they stood at her entrance way. “I’m not,” he sighed, “all that great with, words, or kids for that matter,” he mumbled. “But if you ever need anything, I-I would be there. Try to be there. If you wanted,” he trailed off.

Darcy gave him the smallest smile she can muster, while she valiantly fought the wetness that is threatened to swarm back into her vision. “Thanks, Bucky,” she sniffled and nodded. “Means a lot, cause you don’t have to-“

“Want to,” he gave her an equally small smile and a shrug. “Thanks for dinner, Doll,” he said, while he danced back and forth before leaning in quickly and planting a soft kiss on her cheek.

She’d gripped his forearms instead of wrapping her arms around his neck (like she surprisingly wanted to) and making things awkward as she could stand. She made a kissing noise against his cheek and retreated before she could do something truly mortifying. Like cry. Or try to climb him like a tree.

She moved Wyborn into his portable crib away from the kitchen while she cleaned up their mess from dinner and premeasured the next two bottles for the middle of the night feedings.

Darcy wanted to cry. She didn’t think that she had any tears left, until she thought about Bucky. She stood at the sink while the water ran for several minutes and thought about the man she had just made dinner for. It was not totally out of the ordinary for her to have entertained a guy like that, a year or two ago, maybe. Hell she was pretty sure she and Ian had spent several nights in like that (curse that man) back in London, before the other Nine Realms tried to play a pretty deadly game of Pog with the planet. But her issue lied more with the fact that this guy was a good guy, he was a good guy with a mack truck load of baggage, and Darcy could absolutely fall for him. She knew this, it was in the way he smiled (at her) and the crinkle of his eyes (that destroyed her ovaries) right before it shown through. But that was all before. She could have absolutely loved this man before she got saddled with an infant under her care, and that was not something that she thought would be fair to any of them. No, she would mourn this crush, salt and burn it. She had the saddest thought that because of this she might always be alone, her and this child. But she shook the morose cobwebs from her head and turned off the water, heading in to bed.

 

She woke from an entirely too vivid dream of smoke demons and blood to the feel of windows rattling from the shock of thunder outside. The next flash was nearly a second later, the resounding crash scared her under her covers. She pulled a pillow over her head and squeezed her eyes against the onslaught until sleep dragged her back under.

 

The sound of rain woke her later to the dull gray light of an overcast morning. It only took her a second of processing where her life is for her to be shoving the covers away and stumbling to the portable crib in a panic.

“Oh- god no,” she flew to the door and tugged it open, “Wybo-“ her call was cut off at the sight of the man who stood in her living room.

Thor was standing before the windows, Wyborn cuddled safely in his arms as Thor spoke to him in half-chocked whispers. “I am here, little bear, and I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Thor is back. Working on Chapter 8 right now. We've got direction and a bit more resolution coming up, but we are most certainly not out of the woods yet, kids!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the reviews and for sticking with me through these two weeks.

Thor turned from the window to see Darcy standing wild eyed and panicked behind him. “Lady Darcy,” he greeted, his voice heavy with resignation. There were wet tear tracks down his face, but Wyborn was sleeping peacefully in his arms despite the torrent occurring outside.

Something in Darcy snapped and she rushed to his side, already sobbing as they crashed gently together, clinging to whatever scraps of skin (Darcy’s neck) or fabric (Thor’s cape) that they could reach while they sunk slowly to the floor in commiseration.

“I thought-I thought,” Darcy hiccupped.

Thor shushed her gently and shook his head, his tears increasing. He apologized, and he thanked her, and he apologized and he reassured her that he was here and he apologized and he praised her resolve and stalwart commitment to the care of his offspring. Then he apologized until neither one of them could speak through their sobs.

They remained in the comfort of each other’s arms until Wyborn awoke with a sharp yell and they both dragged themselves away to care for him (Thor to retrieve the bottle and Darcy to beginning changing him).

Thor fed him against his mighty chest, muttered wetly and cooed at his son’s good appetite. They ended up on the couch for the better part of the morning. They shared long silences, traded cuddling with the baby and each other and succinct comments (“He’s got more hair than I’ve ever seen on any baby.” “He will be a mighty warrior.” “He likes this one song on the mobile.” “This animal toy is particularly soft.”). By lunch Thor had moved Wyborn to the swing so he can let Darcy nap while he retrieved the ordered food from downstairs.

He detoured, however at the lab levels, where he knew Jane will be.

Darcy woke up to the smell of grease and cheese. Her stomach grumbled in protest at having not eaten all day, and she moved to the kitchen table where Thor sat calmly eating a slice from the box. The rain outside has slowed to a putter instead of the downpour Thor had subjected Manhattan to all day.

She moved into his space and collected a slice from the open box before him, then moved further into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. “Thanks for getting food,” she offered lightly.

 

“It was nothing,” Thor responded absently. He continued chewing before speaking again. “Lady Darcy, if I may,” he begun, standing and moving toward her, he propped a hip against the island and observed her movements carefully. “I will always be grateful to you for your care of my son, but I must ask a favor of you.”

Darcy’s shoulders slumped and she finished adding the grounds to the filter. “Sure big guy, what do you need?”

Thor’s heavy sigh told her that he gained no pleasure from asking her this question, “May we impose on you for a little while longer, I will stay here with you and care for the babe until other arrangements can be attained?”

Darcy pursed her lips, but she nodded her assent. "Yeah, you guys are like family," and truth be told she felt her heart warm at the thought of the little guy, "I really wouldn't know what I would do without him around." She shrugged her shoulders helplessly. She and Thor had discussed – at length – what her future might hold now that she was no longer welcome in Jane's lab. Shoot her for her first thought not being _go back to school_ , it had been _raise this kid_.

His smile was nearer to its normal brilliance, chiseling laugh lines back into his as-of-late grim visage. “That is most excellent, I too share your feelings of familial care.” His face turned solemn as he looked upon his son. “I will not fail you again son,” he looked back to Darcy, “nor shall I fail you again, sister.”

Darcy had thought that she had ran out of tears, that turned out not to be true.

 

Thor was a fast learner, and he did not shirk his responsibilities; he observed Darcy in her interactions with Wyborn and then shortly stepped in and mimicked her actions. He changed diapers, even the atomic ones, cleaned and prepared bottles, learned to distinguish each cry, learned the infant’s favorite comfort toys (Darcy wondered silently to herself, on more than one occasion, why for the love of all things that Jane had given this up). He learned the baby’s schedule and even took the middle of the night changings and feedings. Even if Darcy tried to insist Thor would pluck the bottle from her half-sleep coordinated hands and gently turn her back in the direction of the bed.

She and Thor spoke of what the future could bring, that while many children had been raised by Asgardian caregivers, Thor had first-hand knowledge of how cold it felt to be handed over by your parents to, essentially, strangers. Thor had shared a nanny with other children for many years, and longed for the time he had shared with his parents. He was troubled in his decision to take Wyborn back to Asgard and struggled over the options.

As much as Darcy wanted to do the right thing and let Thor take Wyborn to his home across the universe, she felt a horrible plunge in her chest. “What if,” she stopped him mid-furrowed brow as Wyborn lay intermittently lifting his head off of his father’s chest to try and see Darcy at the edge of the room. She brought them two mugs of warmed tea, handed one to Thor and continued, “what if, he stayed here. What if you let me help? Let me take care of him. That way you’re not leaving him with _Super Nannies_ , you can still learn your kingdom, protect the Nine Realms and I’ll be here with him.” She was being selfish. She didn’t want Thor to leave and never come back. The burly man on her couch had become the brother she had always wanted. If Wyborn stayed, then Thor would come back; he would always have a reason to come back to Midgard if his son was here, the logically part of Darcy’s brain prodded at her. “If you want,” she finished hesitantly, suddenly unsure if he would want the reminder of Jane, the possibility of seeing her once again after she had so viciously betrayed his trust.

When she spared a look at him after taking a rather large sip of tepid tea she saw his eyes shining bright with awe. “Truly?” he whispered, “you would willing accept the mantle?”

She swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat and nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah,” she coughed, “Uh, yeah, I would.”

Thor cupped Wyborn’s head to his chest and leaned over to press a kiss firmly to her forehead. “You honor me with your oath. Allow me to honor you with one as well. Darcy Lewis of Midgard, you are and always will be a friend to the Aesir of Asgard, a welcome ally, and honored council to Thor Odinson, Ruler of Asgard, from this day until my last, and for all of the lifetimes beyond.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there are so many of you that are leaving kudos and comments and thoughts about what you think should happen/will happen and I want to reply since evidently you've taken up residence in my headspace. I don't want to reply and give anything away but know that I'm like squeeing and nodding emphatically over here.
> 
> This chapter is a little longer, and I'm feeling a little better with the bi-weekly updates, especially since I just finished my midterm today (it took 5.5 hours, I'm not happy with that mind melting experience). 
> 
> Hope yinz enjoy this!

Thor remained for another two days before he departed for Álfheim, a trip which Darcy had been assured was purely diplomatic, and that he should return within the fortnight. Darcy accompanied him on his farewell rounds, mostly because she hadn’t really left her apartment in weeks, but also because Thor had wanted to give his teammates the opportunity to see his son (proud father that he was). Clint and Natasha were not normally so quiet in Darcy’s presence, not that she had been all that close with them to begin with. She may have threatened to taser Clint in New Mexico but, in her defense she was threatening all of the jack-booted thugs with one thing or another. Natasha was downright intimidating. Darcy often fearfully mused that the woman was more feline that arachnid in mannerism, but who was she to question the choice of codenames of government sponsored assassins. But she got sided eyed pretty hard through the observation window of the gun range as she bounced Wyborn back and forth in his carrier.

Thor looked grim when he came back through the door though, so she didn’t bring it up.

 

They were met on the landing pad by Bucky and Tony Stark. Thor had a warm grin for his friend and teammate at that point. He shook Tony’s outstretched hand and praised him on his resilience. For his friend he clasped in a manly embrace, and when he pulled back Darcy saw him look to her and the baby and tell Bucky a very important secret. The soldier nodded at the Norseman and squeezed his shoulder in reassurance. Thor returned to Darcy and reached down to remove Wyborn from the carrier, giving his son a final hug and kiss.

“You will be good for Lady Darcy, will you not young war bear?” he intoned to the infant.

Darcy tried hard not to roll her eyes, but smiled wistfully. “He’s a baby, he can’t be bad,” she observed.

“That is true,” he chuckled happily, helping her maneuver Wyborn back into his carrier. Thor reached around Darcy and embraced her as tightly as he dared with the child between them, “Thank you, Darcy, I will return as soon as I am able. I will miss you both dearly and send my love from the stars.”

Darcy enjoyed him waxing poetic, and smiled when she told him, “we’ll look for it every night.”

Thor moved to the platform and with a burst of bright light, was absorbed by the Bifrost, leaving the wind to whip around the four of them that remained on the roof.

“Lewis, you got a minute?” Stark called out as soon as the dust settled.

She shrugged, her hands still wrapped around the baby’s back from when she shielded him from the worst of the onslaught. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Uh, care to give the lady a hand, Red October?” he implored to Bucky who rolled his eyes in annoyance but helped fumble the straps of the carrier off of Darcy and onto himself.

Tony had already moved inside and was rolling to the bar counter when Darcy entered the Tower again. “What can I help you with Mr. Stark?” He grimaced slightly and folded a packet between the side of his seat and his mostly-still-intact leg.

“So last week wasn’t at all awkward. Or enlightening. Well it was enlightening, but not in the good way,” he started off at a ramble, wheeling toward the elevator doors.

Darcy grumbled a little and followed reluctantly. “I’m not sure what’s the point of rehashing what happened-“

Tony cut her off, “so you may know that Stark Industries is a multibillion dollar company, with access to high level government funding and research facilities,” he began and waited for her to reply.

“I’ve read the orientation manual,” she surmised, “someone in the lab had to. What does this have to do with anything?”

“With the kind of contracts and research opportunities that we engage in, competition is incredibly steep. So unfortunately, it would not be in my company’s best interests to terminate Dr. Foster’s contract.”

Darcy frowned, her heart bottomed out somewhere in her knees. “Um, why are you telling me any of this? So you can’t fire Jane, and I can’t exactly have my old job back; I’m not seeing the point here.”

Tony kept mowing along the topic, “we don’t have a working relationship with the South African government at this time, so we can’t get her a permanent position at their observatory, but Pep is in negotiations with the Wakandan government to allow us to build a Stark Industries Super Telescope in a new facility, but their very, tetchy,” Tony tried and shrugged as if to say what-can-you-do and moved into the open elevator before them. “Come on Lewis, keep up,” he said as he looked up at her expectantly.

Darcy followed numbly into the elevator and saw her reflection in the closed door, she thought it was pretty decent impression of a jawless zombie.

“So regardless of what happens with Wakanda, we have other resources, I’m sure Pepper or someone could dig up a contact from Skibotn or Atacama, and move her there,” he flourished with his hand.

“You’re just going to bounce her out of the Tower, from country to country? F-for what happened?”

The doors opened on the lab level and Darcy was quite impressed with herself that she didn’t spare a look to her old lab, and instead followed Tony into his own further down the corridor. “Listen, I can’t let what she’s researching and has already discovered get into the hands of someone like HYDRA, or god-forbid, Justin Hammer. But we’ve had her sign an amended contract, that she can continue her work, she can still publish what she wants, with clearance from us. Intellectual property rights are very clear about what we can and can’t claim as ours: since space is nature and therefore it can only be discovered. If she actually fabricates an Einstein-Rosen Bridge, well we’ll cross that bridge, ha, when we get to it,” he chuckled at his horrible pun. Darcy couldn’t find the humor in her own laugh.

“You’re blacklisting her,” Darcy gaped. “What about- what did,” she stammered, her thoughts ran too quickly to get a sentence in order. She wagged her tongue and tried again. “Does Thor know?”

“Oh, it was the big guy’s idea,” Tony seemed to enjoy her shock even more. “They had a really vocal blow up in the hall a few days back. Huh, come to think of it, same day you two did. Aren’t you special?” he smirked humorlessly and continued. “There were some really interesting insults and lightning. I’m surprised you didn’t see it, I thought Point Break might have electrocuted the whole building. He probably wanted to.”

Darcy indicated that she remembered the storm, she didn’t feel like she needed to tell Tony how she’d seen her pseudo-brother after the fallout.

“Anyway, came back in a few days later in the lab and we had a nice chat,” they’d reached the lab and Darcy was greeted by a form of chaos she knew only Tony Stark to be capable of. There were loose wires and half-constructed widgets strew on most of the work stations. Two robots seemed to notice their arrival and tittered to get their attention, before reaching to hold up a dark blue banner strung between them that read “CONGRATULATIONS, IT’S A BOY! AND A PROMOTION!” in large white letters.

Darcy felt slightly sick, “Is this some kind of joke?”

Tony looked over at the bots, “What? No! DUM-E, Butterfingers! I haven’t offered her the job yet. I swear, I should just scrap you and start over,” Tony sounded exasperated. He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his already ragged hair. “Listen, I know this looks really bad. Way worse than it should, but,” he nodded back to the sign and looked up at her. “Thor told me what you’ve decided, and that’s pretty huge, you didn’t have to, but you’re going to give this kid the best chance he has of having a stable upbringing. Something that not everyone is lucky to experience. And oh, look,” he turned his wheelchair away and nodded his head at a glass enclosed room, “new office, yay,” he cleared his throat and approached one of his work benches to grab an item.

“Uh,” Darcy stuttered, “oh-okay. So, um, I’m gonna work for you now?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Doing what exactly?” Darcy moved into the lab further to reach a bench. She clutched at the metal side until her fingers ached, but she needed the extra support. She leaned heavily into it and continued. “I’m not a scientist, I don’t know half as much about astrophysics as I’ve evidently lead you to believe. So I’m not sure how you could consider me as qualified for whatever it is that you do.”

Tony shrugged and an enigmatic grin grew across his face, “we’ll figure it out as we go along. Personal Assistant work? Eh, we’ll play it by ear,” he shrugged. “First order of business: read through these and sign, the sooner we take care of all of that the sooner we can everything else sorted.” He handed her a manila envelope of paperwork from the side of his chair. “Those need to be taken to the Legal to sign, 34rd floor,” Tony said as he waited for her to take them from him.

Darcy was somewhat lightheaded and remained clinging to the work table. 

Tony tossed the packet onto the table nearest him and rolled over to the robots arguing nonsensically.

When she felt the strength in her legs return, she moved slowly to the thick envelope and snatched it up. Her fingers were only slightly tremoring as she pulled out the stack and read the title of the form in all capitals at the upper right-hand corner: Termination of Parental Rights.


	10. Chapter 10

Darcy slid the door shut quietly when she returned to her apartment. She closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath before opening them and scanning the interior.

James poked his head out from her bedroom and smiled slowly, stepped out and eased the door closed behind him, “hey,” he greeted quietly as he made his way toward her.

She hadn’t moved off of the door and her knees shook, threatening her with another wall slide, “hey yourself.”

“What did Stark want?” he asked cautiously when he noticed her pallor.

“Oh, you know,” she swallowed thickly, “he offered me a job. And handed me Wyborn’s parental rights on a silver platter,” she sputtered.

He held his hands up in a non-threatening manner and slowed his approach. “Whoa, what? What are you talking about? Stark did what?”

“He gave me all these forms, pre-filled out forms, that Jane did; that he made Jane do. Before he kicked her out, I don’t even know when she’s leaving, but my laptop’s still in the lab, I’ll need that for my new job. How is this my life?” she whimpered, her voice tremulous as she looked up at him. He was close enough that his fingers reached out and brushed at the skin on the inside of her elbow. Her breath was coming in short bursts and her vision was starting to swim in front of her eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey, Darcy, calm down,” Bucky said stepping in closer so that his breath fanned across her face.

She didn’t know if he had grabbed for her or if she had launched herself at him (she jumped, there was no way her legs would have tangled with his any other way) more wheezing sobs wretched from her lungs.

“I’ve got you, breathe with me, in and out, slow down. Slow down, I’ve got you,” Bucky murmured, his face against her hair.

Her face was tucked into the curve of his neck and she breathed great shuddering breaths. She felt his hands move that settled tight at her ribs, press gently and relax for long moments. She caught the rhythm he made when on a hard half-inhale, the air was squeezed from within her.

“In,” he murmured slowly, sharp inhalations sounding from his nose, “out,” a whoosh for hot air accompanied his hard hold on her. He repeated this until her mind fog broke and she took more controlled breathes, her heart laboring angrily in her chest. “That’s it,” he said, his fingers swirling on her skin through the fabric of her shirt.

She nosed a line up his throat, a puff of air croaking out of her as she said her thanks.

“No problem, not my first time,” he trailed off.

The pang of sadness at what he didn’t say hit Darcy unkindly. Her head dropped back to his shoulder with a thump on the metal, “shit, I’m sorry,” her voice not sounding any more solid.

“It’s not a problem,” he reiterated.

Even as her mind and body protested, she disentangled herself from his hold and mentally berated herself from constantly using him as an emotional crutch. It didn’t assuage her anxiousness, so she stalked purposefully toward the kitchen and set about making a cup of tea. When she accidently shut the microwave door too loud and earned an indignant squawk from Wyborn in the bedroom, she wrung her hands and curse softly to herself, rushing to get him.

She soothed his startled cries and grabbed his comfort toy, carrying him easily back out toward the kitchen. Once she settled him in his swing and finished her tea, she realized that Bucky had gone.

 

She started in with Tony the next morning by assembling the swing, portable crib and changing station that had been delivered the night before. She had raised a truly epic unimpressed eyebrow at him while he puttered around and pretended like he couldn’t see her annoyance (she’d forgiven him, if only because she pawned Wyborn off on “Uncle Iron Man” while she built all three pieces of furniture). It was nice (more than nice, Tony was being extra) to not have to lug Wyborn’s equipment – for lack of a better term – up and down the elevator daily, she only needed to ensure she had a stocked diaper bag and a spare bottle to which she could wash in the lab floor rest rooms in between feedings. After that she had filled out (in her opinion) more forms in triplicate than was strictly necessary, Tony had her work through his backlog of rescheduled meetings and prioritize what she could. She learned quickly that while Tony would pre-emptively veto any meeting with the words _Board_ or _Executives_ or _Directors_ in the header, he had a knack for squeezing in publicity appearances and lecture events. Darcy had tried to limit him to the five boroughs, but he had pushed back.

“Tony, I’m not dragging a 3 month old half-Aesir on a plane for Odin knows how many hours. Babies and flying do not mix well,” she snapped.

“Continental states,” Tony pushed.

“Tri-State Area,” Darcy glared.

“Eastern Seaboard?” Tony hedged.

“Five Boroughs,” Darcy warned.

They were interrupted by Wyborn’s shriek from his swing. Darcy stared harshly at Tony.

“You said something about the Tri-State, yeah?” Tony motioned her towards the door while he turned his wheelchair toward the elevator.

Darcy nodded her victory but shouted after him, “You better be going to physical therapy mister! If we get to the gym and you’re not there we will find you!”

“Slave driver,” Tony grumbled good naturedly as he moved out of sight.

She allowed herself a faint smile at the antics and moved inside the closed office to help the baby.

Jarvis chimed softly overhead, “if I may, Ms. Darcy,” the computer sounded.

“Go ahead, J,” she said unfastening Wyborn’s dirty diaper.

“Due to Sir’s dietary restrictions he typically consumes a high-chlorophyll diet, with his increased activity I estimate that Sir is not consuming enough protein.”

Darcy’s nod this time was one of understanding. “Got it,” she finished fussing with the snap buttons of the onesie and turned to mix a bottle. “Would you be ok with sending me some of this information? Just, in case, I don’t know, he starts flagging or something? I can keep Tony-approved snacks on hand?” she waved at the ceiling.

“Oh course, Ms. Darcy,” Jarvis responded and after a few seconds her phone pinged with the new email. There were several quiet minutes while Darcy got Wyborn situated in her arms, and herself situated in her chair to feed him, gently swinging it back and forth before the chimes rang softly again. “May I make a frank observation, Ms. Darcy?” Jarvis said.

She hummed and softly replied, “go ahead,” as Wyborn had finished his bottle and was slowly slipping back off to sleep.

“I may have been harsh in my first judgement of you. But further analysis of my previous records I have found that you are a caregiver, and I believe that you will perform admirably in your duties to Sir and Master Thor’s offspring.”

Darcy blushed and felt a small prick of happiness bloom in her stomach. “Thanks J,” she said fighting a smile.

“You are welcome Ms. Darcy, please remember that while this is your chosen task, you are not alone in performing it. Should you require any assistance, there are others that are willing to come to your aid.”

Whatever response she could think of died on her lips as Wyborn coughed and promptly threw up his bottle over the both of them.

“Oh my god, no,” Darcy groaned, as Wyborn fused and cried out.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short update, I'm heading into my last week of classes for the summer and I'll get a nice two week break before vacation and the first week of fall classes begin. Thanks to you for sticking with it this far, and I really do love hearing your theories and ideas :)

True to his word, Thor returned with four days to spare. Darcy greeted him with Wyborn at the elevators (as the Bifrost opening on the roof was the only warning that Jarvis could give her that he had returned) and they quietly chatted about his excursion on the trip back to the apartment. He brought small gifts from the Light Elves for Wyborn, including a set of wooden soldiers, which Thor took great pleasure in displaying along a shelf above his crib. He also presented Darcy with a small trinket – a small purple orb with golden filigree and runes inscribed.

“I was told,” he began with a small smile lighting his features, “that this was once used by the Guard of the High Priestess to hide her from an invading army. They have gifted it to you as you care for my son, in a gesture of goodwill between our people. Should Asgard or Midgard require their assistance they have given me their word,” Thor looked quietly pleased with the outcome of his visit.

Darcy’s happiness could not be contained, she wrapped her arms tightly around him and held on.

Thor returned the embrace, pressing a kiss or two upon the top of her head until the small noises of his son caused him to loosen his grip. He moved away to take him in his arms and regale the infant with tales of the people across the stars.

Darcy took the time to herself to straighten up and mentally prepare to thoroughly clean the apartment (if she could talk Thor into taking Wyborn for a walk to avoid the smell of bleach and chemicals) when the klaxons sounded. Both Darcy and Thor sighed in resignation and caught the others eyes’. She held her arms open in invitation. Thor bent and retrieved Mjolnir from next to the couch and moved to the door, beckoning her to follow. They took the elevator back up to the penthouse where it appeared that most of the team had gathered to see what the cause of the issue was.

Jarvis briefed them that Dr. Doom had released a series of Doombots from a number of locations along the East River. The Four appeared to be handling things on their own, except that Jarvis had found a rash of odd tweets stemming from #HomeDepotThor featuring a crazy guy threatening convenience stores with a crowbar. It wouldn’t have been cause for any concern until a video was posted of him smacking a clerk through the front display of the store with inhuman strength.

Thor had cursed softly to himself, “I am familiar with this foe,” he sighed, turning to his team mates. “I, might ask for your assistance in this as he has bested me before.”

Natasha nodded her consent, nudging to Clint to get his take. He frowns and signs violently at Natasha before turning and storming out of the room. The Black Widow frowns in apology and goes after him. There’s a slight scuffle at the elevator, as the two assassins move on to it and – Darcy swallows down the lump suddenly blocking her throat – Captain America steps out. But it’s not a ghost she sees. There are black tactical pants, fitted with more guns than he should need, the shirt fits different, looser in the chest and tighter over the arms, one of which has been ripped off at the sleeve to accommodate the metal arm. “Guy with a crowbar, strong guy?” Bucky asks as he adjust the straps for the shield around his forearm.

“Enchanted crowbar,” Thor provides, handing Wyborn off to a mildly panicked Darcy (for reasons that she cannot seem to name).

“I think I can finish the fabrication on the Mark 43 in time, Jarvis! What’s the ETA on completion?” Tony asks looking at the tablet in his hand.

“How-you’re not flying a suit, Tony,” Darcy gasps.

He shakes his head, “No this one is battery operated,” he paused. “That came out wrong, it’s unmanned, so I can pilot it remotely, until I can figure this leg situation out,” he trailed off.

“It field tested?” Bucky asked.

Tony looked up at him sheepishly, “not exactly.”

“Then it ain’t comin’, come on buddy, looks like it’s jus’ the two of us.” They made their way toward the elevator.

Pepper laid a hand on Tony’s shoulder, “I’ll go with them.” She squeezed lightly, her bare heels slapping lightly on the marble.

“Be careful Pep! Hey if she gets one scratch on her I’m holding you two personally responsible!” Tony shouted out to the two men.

Thor thanked Pepper for her aid and consented to Tony’s threat.

Darcy and Bucky had locked eyes and hadn’t been able to look away. As the door to the elevator started to close she stuttered, “stay safe,” like prayer.

Bucky dipped his head once, the only acknowledgment that he’d heard her and the door shut on them.

 

“Huh,” Tony sighed unhappily, “so this is how Pepper used to feel,” he mused as he spun around to face Darcy in the lab.

Darcy had just come out of the office after having laid Wyborn down to swing. “Scared shitless?” she offered truthfully.

Tony had moved to work on soldering a small chip. “Mm,” he hummed in response, “worried, I was going to go with worried, I’m not scared. She’s Pepper, Extremis!Pepper. She’ll be fine… as long as there aren’t any explosions or someone tries to rip her head off,” Tony grumbled and dropped his iron, taking his head in his hands and groaning.

Darcy came around and hesitated before wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her cheek on his head. “Hey, I get it. I’m worried too. I can’t stand the thought of something happening to.. him,” she finished quickly. She hoped Tony didn’t latch on to her fumble.

Tony sighed into the embrace and patted Darcy’s arm affectionately. “They’ll be fine, they gotta come home. Can’t leave us to take care of ourselves now, can they?” he joked.

Darcy released him with a weak chuckle and moved away.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the amazing reviews and kudos that I've gotten in the last two weeks; I was able to complete my summer class and got my grades back (passed, ftw) and I did a really irresponsible non-adult thing where I stayed up for like 24 hours and drank way too much whiskey... needless to say I had to take Saturday off from work. I've got some main plot things I want to hit on in the next few chapters (like why Clint and Natasha seem so weird, and more Jane and a little bit more heat on this slow simmer I'm trying to work up between Bucky and Darcy), I want to really flesh out some of the things you guys have brought up in your comments but I don't want to just throw more filler in, you know?
> 
> Hope you enjoy this installment!

Around six, Darcy forced Tony to take a break. There were advantages to childcare, which included making things into a routine and keeping (mostly) to it. She offered him comfort in the form of food, but he waved her off and moved back to his workspace, so before she grabbed Wyborn to head back upstairs, she fixed him a green smoothie and left in his line of sight. Then she gathered up the baby and headed up to their apartment.

Her door shut softly with a click around nine. Wyborn was sleeping peacefully in his crib, tucked away in the bedroom, the monitor setting a bright glow around the table and area where Darcy was sitting, phone clutched tight in her fingers.

Thor entered with a weak smile and a few cuts, and Bucky follow timidly on his heels.

“Oh you’re back!” Darcy whispered loudly, jumping to her feet and leaping at them. She wrapped an arm around each of the large men’s necks, and pulled them down to her level. She released them shortly thereafter and took in the state of the two of them: Thor had a cut across his eyebrow, the blood that had been hastily wiped away had smeared and left a light trail of its presence. Bucky had a rapidly swelling eye that was turning yellow around the edges before Darcy could really see how much damage he had endured, and he kept tonguing the split at his lip, as if he would miss it being there if he wasn’t constantly checking it.

Darcy clicked her tongue at them, “Come on, I fixed plates,” she said leading the way to the kitchen. Inside she cranked up the heat on the oven and pulled a stack of glass casserole dishes from the refrigerator. “These just need to warm, why don’t you both get cleaned up?”

Thor offered James the facilities first, but he declined saying he didn’t want to intrude.

“No, friend, I insist; you must experience firsthand the care and love Lady Darcy puts into her cuisine,” Thor finished happily.

Bucky couldn’t stop the chuckle that erupted and the words that spewed forth, “Oh trust me pal, I have.” He looked sideways toward Darcy who blushed prettily, against her best wishes.

Thor laughed merrily, “I see that you have deceived me most grievously, you two have dined together before?” he asked, looking to Darcy for confirmation.

Darcy nodded once and gave a small shrug to her shoulders, “Just the one time,” she trailed off, daring to look over at Bucky.

The look that he fixed on her spoke volumes even though his lips remained shut.

Darcy’s blush intensified and she turned quickly, opening cabinets and searching for a distraction within.

Bucky relayed that he would go and clean up. Leaving the two close friends alone.

Thor settled Mjolnir out of the way of traffic and folded his arms across his chest and set to studying his friend.

Darcy’s shoulders were still defensively high, but her posture sunk in chagrin. The high blush that had graced her features had added to her beauty, Thor thought to himself; his Lady Darcy was a wonderful creature, both in aesthetics and ethos. “I thank you for thinking of us when you prepared your evening meal. But I must know: what is the nature of your relationship with Sergeant Barnes?”

Darcy sighed and reluctantly turned back to Thor, “You know I can’t cook for less than eight, so I always cook enough for you,” she said while offering a weak smile.

Thor dipped his chin, “Again, I appreciate your thoughtfulness, and I see that you have attempted to skillful avoid my question, little one, but I will not be deterred.”

Darcy slipped into a chair at the island and spread her hands wide across the counter, “We’re just friends, I made him dinner once as a thank-you for helping me with Wyborn right before you came home. So it’s not what you think it is,” she finished less strong that she would have liked.

To her dismay, Thor did not take her answer as closure to the conversation. “Ah,” he realized, moving to stand across from her, leaning down on his elbows, “so am I to understand that he is not aware of your feelings or that you believe that he does not share your feelings-“

“Feelings?” Darcy squeaked, “what feelings?” she scoffed, trying to brush off this line of questioning.

He stiffened painfully, wincing and peering deeply into her face, Darcy’s gaze wide and frightened, the slightly tremor at her fingers shocking him, “you have not even addressed your own feelings toward him?” he accused.

Darcy folded in on herself and looked over her shoulder to the timer above the oven. She cleared her throat and turned back to face him, a mask of indifference falling across her features, though her shoulders remained tense, “what feelings?”

Thor frowned deeply and shook his head, stood and moved around the island, “What feelings indeed, we will speak no more of it,” he offered his open arms as apology, and watched as Darcy visibly sank with relief before she unfurled from the chair and curled herself into his comforting embrace.

She may have mumbled her thanks into his breastplate.

He pulled away from her hesitantly, and held her at arm’s length. “There is something that I must say and you will hear: should you desire it, at any time, you may have a place by my side here, but especially on Asgard. With all that it entails. I know that you and I do not see each other in that manner now, but, with time, I believe that we could. That I could love you as fiercely as –“ he choked on the name as a knock sounded on the door.

Both turned and looked toward the interruption.

As torn as Darcy was to both hear the end of Thor’s proposal, and yet to run away to the door she met his gaze uneasily.

His smile was small, and only slightly devastated. He leaned down and brushed his lips across her forehead. “I will only be a moment, go and admit the Sergeant,” he instructed her, moving back toward the bedroom where his son slept.

All at once Darcy moved toward the door, her heart breaking for the implication, and yet she felt nothing.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are AMAZING! I post this from Sin City on a much needed holiday... bonus food for thought - I had 2 2.5 hour flights today, guess what I did to kill the time? :D
> 
> Also I apologize for any errors I think I read through this to proof it earlier last week, but I can't remember, an I'm too tired to see straight.

The door opened quickly under Darcy’s hand, greeting her to the sight of Bucky leaning casually against the frame, a bottle of cold bourbon dangled between his fingers. “Hey doll,” he said with a lazy half-smile. “Everythin’ ok?”

Darcy stumbled over her tongue, realizing that her blush never quite faded, “What? Yeah, great, everything’s fine. Yeah,” she exhaled. “Come on in,” she said and moved out of his way.

He sauntered in past her and waited a few feet inside the apartment, “I brought booze,” he waved the bottle toward her, the liquid sloshed around in the few inches of empty space. “For some reason, I couldn’t think of a wine to go with comfort food, and I couldn’t not bring you somethin’,” he tried, his voice tight.

“Whiskey is always welcome,” she hummed appreciatively as they made their way into the kitchen. Darcy set the bottle on the counter and stretched to reach a high shelf of tumblers, her fingers plucking at the sides of the glasses when she felt a wave of heat beside her. Fingers spanned the exposed skin of her hip from where her shirt had ridden above the hem of her leggings.

“Let me,” Bucky breathed, his voice vibrating in the closed space between the two.

Darcy was sure that her sharp inhalation had been silent, but the waves heat and man that struck closer as his fingers brushed against hers to get the drinking glasses made her sizzle and instantly regret not wearing real pants.

He had to have heard her, he was so close and super soldiers have enhanced hearing and he must be teasing her, but god if she didn’t want to turn and curl into him and live in the scent of him for _days_.

“Ah, James,” Thor said, moving back into the kitchen. “You’ve brought libations?”

If they didn’t spring apart like two teenagers caught by Dad, then Darcy was a Stark. (They did, she wasn’t.)

“Erm, yeah,” Bucky nodded toward Darcy, “she needed help, getting glasses off the high shelf,” he explained, evidently not sharing in Darcy’s embarrassment. He fixed her with a wink and moved to pour the bourbon. “How you take it?”

“It’s cold?” she asked pulling the dishes from the oven and setting them one at a time on trivets on the island.

Bucky scoffed at her, “oh, of course, doll.”

She couldn’t help the smile in her voice when she replied, “then straight up, handsome.”

The men enjoyed chicken pot pie casserole in large bowls with sides of soda biscuits and bacon macaroni and cheese. Darcy had to claim a bowl of mac and a biscuit for herself as they quickly dug in and showed no sign of slowing down. The three enjoyed easy conversation about what little they could contribute to the science of distilling alcohol, Bucky’s terrible firsthand knowledge, Thor’s escapades in Aegir’s house, and Darcy’s own summer hitting the craft distilleries on the west coast during what she called her vod-cation (was she sure she wasn’t Tony Stark’s long lost daughter? In a different universe, probably). By the time Darcy had savored her third neat bourbon, she had poured herself onto the couch between the two she was comfortably numb.

“I can’t tell you the last time I let loosse,” she hissed a half-yell, only to be subtly shushed by Thor. She craned her neck to look up at Bucky, “did I just get shushed?” she giggled, “I’m not yelling!” she whispered indignantly.

He gave her an indulgent smile and relaxed her arm behind her on the couch, “you did, you’re a real noisy drunk,” he teased.

She pouted, sufficiently mollified, “am not,” she grumbled and then turned to Thor. “I’d like to catch up on Thrones, but I don’t think I could stay awake, let alone remember what happens,” she groused.

Bucky looked confused, “Thrones..?” he asked expectantly.

Darcy gasped overdramatically and clamped a hand down on his thigh. “You’re never heard of Game of Thrones?!” She whispered loudly.

Bucky shook his head, grin spreading wider as her fingers flexed unconsciously along the muscles of his thigh.

“It is a medieval fantasy epic,” Thor explained, “with a battle between noble houses for the right to rule the united kingdoms. I find it most enjoyable,” he commented.

“It has zombies and dragons,” Darcy whispered conspiratorially.

Bucky feigned thinking it over before he nodded easily, “well, sign me up, doll.”

Darcy beamed and cheered her quiet enthusiasm to Thor, “yay! Another convert.” She leaned her head back against the couch, and against Bucky’s arm, “Jarvis, if you would please, from the top.” She lasted less than five minutes (even before the first death of the series) before she began snoring softly.

Bucky found out that he was being watched when he looked up from Darcy’s face, peacefully slack, to meet Thor’s strong gaze. He tipped his head in acknowledgment.

“I do believe it is time that you and I had a conversation, James,” Thor rumbled quietly.

Bucky nodded and stood slowly, allowing the cushions to absorb more of Darcy as she tipped to the side. He reached a hand up and gently guided her down to the seat, as Thor moved her legs up to replace his space. The brawny men then moved towards the kitchen to talk in silence.

“You do recall the promise you gave me, James? That you would watch over my son and my Lady Darcy as if they were your own?” Thor said, voice gravelly and stare penetrating.

Bucky nodded and crossed his arms ducking his head, “I did, and I have. She,” he sighed, “well she hasn’t noticed and I haven’t exactly been overt.”

Thor scoffed and shuffled his feet, “your heart beats for her, does it not? You must tell her of your intentions. She claims to be ignorant of your feelings and now I understand why.”

“Hey,” Bucky glared, “it hasn’t been’a walk in the park. She’s goin’ through a lot; I don’t want’ta be one more problem she’s got to deal with.”

Thor looked puzzled, “how would your love be a burden for her?” He frowned deeply and broke his stony gaze to look over at the sleeping woman on the couch.

“I’m not one-hundert-percent myself, I’ve still got a lot to sort out. Did you see her face when we left today? Looked pale as a sheet. I don’t think I can make her go through that,” he shook his head violently, “s’not fair to her.” His eyes followed the line of Thor’s to her form huddled into the cushions. “Besides, everythin’ I know about her came from you; she hasn’ opened up to me, means she doesn’ trust me. How can you love someone you don’t trust?” Bucky’s eyes locked back onto Thor, a mixture of helplessness and fear swimming in the blue depths.

Thor nodded gravely. “I understand. I will depart again soon, and you will have more time,” turning to face his friend once more. “But know this: should you harm her, fail her, or break your promise to me in any way, I will take them both from this world. Do not fail here, Sergeant Barnes. I have offered her a place by my side in Asgard, which she can choose at any time. She would be my Queen, although I know what both of you feel for one another; I will not see her hurt again.”

Bucky nodded once, solemnly, the anxiety melting from his face slightly. “Understood,” he replied, and for the first time in a while, he felt hope.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unbetad, I really wanted to get this out to you guys so I posted it from work because I have a quiz to take when I get home. No confrontation with Jane this week, but it's written and is coming soon!
> 
> I really love and appreciate all the Kudos and reviews that I've gotten so far and I hope you enjoy this extra long chapter!

Darcy came back to consciousness like swimming to the surface of a deep lake, soothing and silent. And then it was bright. Too bright, too quiet. She snapped awake with the deep chill of fear prickling her skin. She exhaled half a breath and pressed herself up, scrambling across the couch and fumbling for her glasses on the table before her. She was mostly across the living room in a frantic lope to her bedroom when a hand caught her arm, pulling her up short. 

“Hey, hey, Darcy, he’s fine, he’s with Thor,” Bucky said turning her back to face him. 

Darcy stared dumbly up at him before nodding in mute recognition.  

He steered her gently back into the kitchen where he moved to set a glass of water and mug of coffee next to the bottle of pain killers resting on the counter. 

Darcy’s eyes squinted harshly at the scene before her, but moved to take a handful of aspirin to fight off the violent pounding in her head, then to take a ginger sip of the coffee, the scent of chicory washing over her and psuhing some of the stiff grogginess away. “What time is it?” 

Bucky took a shallow sip from his own cup and pressed his lips to his teeth, “s’ a little after seven?” he hedged. “Thor said I should-“ he trailed off looking intently over her face. The hard crease of her brow, displaying the pain beneath it. He released a heavy breath and folded a little in his own posture, leaning back against the sink and folding his arms. “He said he’s got another mission, an’ that he’s not sure how long out this one will put him. Wants me, I mean, I want to help. You, not him; well I asked him, but I want to help. You. If you want that is. Help. With Wyborn,” Bucky’s face remained cool despite his evident loss of utter composure, he at least could scream at himself internally for that Proper-Use-of-the-English-Language Fuck up. 

Darcy blinked, rapidly, for several seconds as Bucky’s word vomit sunk in and could be translated into a relevant form of communication. Her eyebrows rose in mild shock, “oh?” seemed to be the only viable response that she could fathom.  

Bucky nodded again, lips pursed, “right,” and bobbed his head for lack of another motion. 

They stood in a silence so thick it clouded the taste of coffee on Darcy’s tongue, curdling it into bitter chunks that she struggled to swallow down. She cleared her throat and looked up, inadvertently catching Bucky’s eye, before blushing and looking away, berating herself for staring. For making him think she’d be staring, surely. 

Bucky wiped a hand over his face, smeared looks that spoke equal parks exasperation and desperation with his metal hand.  

Darcy watched him clench and release his fist, like he wanted to punch something. She cleared her throat tightly, hoping to gain his attention once more. She didn’t look straight up at him this time, instead choosing to hide behind the safety of her mug. “Um, what did you have in mind?” she took a sip in the effort to cure the wavering quality to her voice with caffeine.  “Like, taking him for the day if I have like a doctor’s appointment, or if Tony wants to do practical application for the remote control robot army he’s trying to convince me he’s not going to build after everything with Steve?” 

Bucky looked stricken for a moment, “what? No, not – robot army?! – no. Sorry, I don’t mean like that, I’m-I’ve got a set of recruits I’m training as a favor to Hill, Wilson’s got the team about to graduate and we’re trying to divvy up the appearances of Captain America,” his voice fell off. 

Darcy frowned and folded in, curling bodily around the space her coffee mug took up on the countertop. “Oh,” she said softly, dipping her head to take another quiet sip. She wasn’t exactly sure what he had meant, an emergency babysitter perhaps? Offering himself up as a crutch for her next breakdown; she could probably pencil him in for some time in the next twelve hours at this rate, she thought bitterly.  

He sighed heavily and moved off of the sink and into the counter slightly. Inching into her space as he continued. “I mean, I can’t help during the day, but I can take him at night, when I’m not helping Shield immortalize Steve; watch him after I get the recruits out of my hair, let you get a few hours to yourself if you want, or we can stay here, but you can get a full nights’ rest at least,” he shrugged, now leaning close enough for her to reach out and tangle fingers with him around the cooling coffee.  

She gripped the mug tighter to stop from doing something that stupid. As his words sunk in she had to stamp down the growing happiness flooding her system, “Erm, what about you? Don’t you need to sleep? He’s still getting up a couple of times at night,” Darcy explained.  

Bucky shook his head, “I don’t need as much, most of the night I’m either staring at the ceiling or up early and working off the excess energy,” he shrugged in response. 

Darcy’s expression lightened as her eyebrows rose in unexpected surprise. “Really?” she fought and lost the battle (rather quickly) to keep the utter joy out of her voice.  

Her joy must have been infectious, because the smile that split his face had her stomach flopping in excitement. “Yeah, absolutely.” 

 

Thor must have returned and departed while Darcy was getting a shower, she wouldn’t lie, it really hurt that the big guy couldn’t stick around to at least say goodbye. The more she rolled it around in her head, she thought it may have had something to do with his rather sudden proposal. And she couldn’t lie. She’d thought about it, done her level best to push it to the back-burner of her thoughts, but _Queen of Asgard_ had a decent ring to it ( _so does Darcy Elizabeth Barnes_ , a traitorous little voice whispered).  

She found the boys in the living room, James laying on the floor next to a chuckling Wyborn, the older man’s face so bright and alive with happiness that Darcy had to halt all forward progress and take a deep breath, gather her faculties and hold a small memorial service for the death of her ovaries. She moved back into the kitchen and poured coffee in the two (!) travel mugs that were sitting on the counter that Bucky have evidently laid out while she was getting ready for work. “Alright, who’s ready to go see Tony?” Darcy called out. 

Wyborn let out a happy shriek and Darcy couldn’t stop her own giggle as she carried the mugs toward the kitchen. Bucky had Wyborn already half strapped into the chest carrier around his broad shoulders and Darcy commended herself for not panting at the sight.  

“Oh, you don’t have to take him down Bucky, I can handle him,” Darcy placated. 

Bucky smiled slowly, “it’s okay, I want to, he and I need to get more familiar with each other, if this is gonna work,” he explained. 

Darcy nodded her head in understanding and agreement. He had a point. “Well then, I’ll just get the bags. Thanks for setting the go mugs out, how do you take your coffee?” she asked heading back toward the kitchen to dress the cups. 

“Uh, black, with lots of sugar,” he answered. 

“Mm, define a lot?” Darcy asked cautiously. “Like 1940s lots of sugar or 1990s lots of sugar?” 

“uh, 1985?” Bucky laughed sort of following her logic. 

She guessed that four tablespoons in the big cup might be what he meant, she could always add more. It was close to how she liked it. “Here,” she said holding it out to him as he swung through the kitchen and gathered a bottle off of the drying mat by the sink. 

He took the proffered mug and gingerly took a sip around the baby’s head, humming in appreciation. He looked over at her smiling, “perfect.” 

It felt a little more loaded than it should, and Darcy turned red, mumbling her thanks. She hoped that hiding in the fridge under the guise of searching for her half and half would cool her flaming face. Evidently not enough, because Bucky looked decidedly smug. 

By the time she had finished with her coffee routine, Bucky was standing at the door, laden down like a pack mule, diaper bag and baby, and the stroller folded to carry in his metal hand. 

Darcy sighed, “I can’t let you carry all of that Bucky, come on that’s not fair,” she grumbled. 

His smirk was answer enough of Oh-yes-I-can, and he shrugged effortlessly. “Can you hold my coffee?” he asked handing it over to her.  

She took it gratefully, but then he proceeded to hold the door open for her. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, until it became all of the doors on the way to the lab, pressing the button on the elevator and gesturing her through all of the doors ahead of him.  

They beat Tony into the lab, which was a double-win in Darcy’s book, one to avoid any stupid comments from the engineer, but also meant he was probably (hopefully) still sleeping. Bucky helped her get Wyborn settled in the swing in front of Butterfingers who chirped happily at the baby and shook a rattle back and forth in communication. Wyborn alternated between happy shrieks and belly laughs.  

“Thank you, again, for everything,” Darcy said, turning to smile up at him.  

Bucky smiled back, a little dazed and bumped one of the work tables with his leg, upsetting some of the contents on top; he fumbled to right them but seemed to think better of making it worse. He crossed his arms and tilted his head towards her, “Of course, anytime you need,” he was interrupted by the buzz of the communicator at his hip. He picked it up and frowned, “shit,” he grumbled typing out a response. “I gotta go,” he looked up a little regretfully. 

“You’re not late are you?” Darcy asked suspiciously, contemplating snatching the device from his hand, but thought better than tempt him.  

He looked slightly sheepish as he backed toward the door of the lab, “I’ve got training, but we should be done by six?” 

Darcy clicked her tongue, “I told you, you didn’t need to carry everything down here!” 

“Yeah,” Bucky smirked roguishly, “yeah, but I wanted to.” 

Darcy watched him turn to the elevators with a fluttering heart and a little short of breath. 

Tony arrived not two minutes later with a gleam in his eye, “what was Rasputin doing in my lab?”  

She rolled her eyes and moved to fix him a smoothie, “Nothing Tony.” 

“Uh huh, you’re right, because if there was _something_ going on with you two I’d expect at least a little bit more of a disheveled appearance from you, Lewis. Sex hair is a great look, I promise. Oh hey, look at this table, perfectly disheveled.” He winked evilly and Darcy glared harshly.  

“Keep pushing Tony, I’ll just keep Making. Your. Smoothie. Over here,” she emphasized. 

That seemed to shut him up. 

 

They broke for lunch and headed around for a stroll. Darcy needed to see more than the glass walls that encased them. Tony agreed and warned her that he was going to see how many board members he could piss off by making Pepper late for her afternoon meeting, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Darcy laughed outright and was secretly happy that both of them seemed to be doing so well with everything that had happened. 

She took Wyborn in the stroller down to the street level and walked. She didn’t count the blocks, but she babbled at the infant staring enthralled at all of the clouds high above head. She named the streets, and pointed out the trees and what shapes were coming up. They found an outdoor café a few blocks from central park that had a decent crowd milling around in and outside. The early fall was a little crisp, but she tucked another blanket in around the baby and ordered the special without really looking at the menu. She was in the middle of mixing a bottle for him when a shadow passed over her shoulder. 

“Cute kid.” 

Darcy startled slightly and looked up to see Clint standing near the chair across from her. “Uh, hi?” she said. 

“This seat taken?” he asked looking at her face. 

“Uh,” she looked at the chair and then gestured to him,” go ahead?” 

He looked down and gripped the chair in one hand, dropped down into it and then regained eye contact with her now.  

“What’s up?” she asked stilted. 

It took him a moment to answer but when he did, it was with a bad dad joke, “the sky.” 

Darcy blinked and was saved from having to respond immediately by the waitress dropping off her food and a mug of hot water for the bottle. From what Darcy could gather it was a grilled sandwich and a bag of fancy chips. Darcy took a moment to use a little of the hot water and add it to the half full bottle. It warmed the bottle enough to be comforting in the colder air. Darcy stood to unfasten Wyborn for his lunch, when Clint launched to his feet. “May I?” 

She hesitated for a moment before backing away and allowing the archer to release the fasteners and carefully lift Wyborn into his arms. He settled lightly back into the chair and had the baby and the bottle arranged, Wyborn suckling greedily before she could return to her own seat.  

He looked up from his gaze on the baby to nod at her, “eat.” 

She didn’t need told twice. Darcy dug in with relish, but as always, like when Thor would watch Wyborn, she would hustle through eating, gaining sustenance, but not really tasting anything more than avocado, soft sweet cheese and chicken with a few too many seasonings. “Thanks,” Darcy said around a mouthful of food, partially covering her mouth. 

Clint shook his head, “slow down.” 

Darcy nodded and chewed more vigorously, if slower. “Thanks,” she repeated. 

Clint shook his head again, “Slow. Down.” 

And then it struck Darcy like a delivery trunk. Clint was deaf. She swallowed her food painfully as it turned flavorless in her mouth. He’d lost his hearing in the same fight that took Steve. She couldn’t fathom taking another bite. She pushed the plate away from her, sandwich only missing a few bites. 

He looked at her intently. “What’s wrong?” 

She shook her head and held his gaze, “not hungry.” 

His eyes narrowed suspiciously and looked down to check the level of the bottle.  

The silence no longer seemed quiet to Darcy, the cacophony of noise from the café, pedestrians and the no-so-far horns of traffic assaulted her senses. And she looked on at Clint sadly. He met her gaze but was blank faced. She knew she looked pityingly at him, she couldn’t stop her lips from turning down at the corners, or her eyes from misting slightly. She hated it a little bit (okay, more than a little), she silently resolved that she would pester Tony until he _fixed_ it. She wasn’t sure how, or what, really, could be done, but she didn’t think she could ever handle this as well as Clint appeared to be. 

He took the bottle from Wyborn, as he finished it and was attempting to suck in air feverously, then maneuvered him up to burp. “You know,” he began conversationally. “I wasn’t sure about,” he nudged his chin in her direction, “you or why you would do, **any** of _this_. But you’re not doing too bad. And you're apparently as brave as you are stupid,” he chuckled. “I’m just saying, I don’t know if I could deal with a toddler for twenty years, that’s like hella-intense, bro.” 

Darcy’s throat tightened and face drained of all color, “what” she wasn’t even sure if she actually spoke the words, but he obviously read her lips (now that she got it). 

“Yeah, Thor said,” he rubbed up and back Wyborn’s back, his little body jumping slightly at the motion, “that he didn’t know how long it would take because the kid’s only half Aesir, but that it took like two millennia for he and Loki to reach maturity; so this guy’s gunna be, like Class of 2220.” Clint grinned foolishly. Wyborn burped and spit up down his back. “Aw, bro, no.” 

 

Darcy thought for hours about what was her best option with the atomic bomb Clint dropped in her lap. She knew that she should tell Bucky, that she had to really, it felt like she was trapping him if she lied or didn’t tell him that helping her with Wyborn was going to be a lasting commitment, like a couple of thousand years until he reached maturity, at least (and what the hell did Clint mean by maturity? Like puberty ( _fuck, oh my god, years of puberty_ , she cringes) or legal adulthood or that point where men stop being boys and start acting like men? But on the other hand, could she not say anything? Just see how things go without the complication of a potential eternity? How was she even going to still be alive to take care of him? Could she really be 40-something with a toddler to chase around, or 80-something with a first grader? Thor’s proposal loomed in the forefront of her mind and she gulped at the necessity of it. It made sense, she was sure now that it would come to this. That Bucky had already lived nearly one hundred years, how could she even assume that he would want to live longer, if he had a choice in how long his life had been extended. And would he even want to spend it with her? 

 

Bucky arrived at Darcy’s door with a deft knock at ten after six that evening. “Hey,” he greeted happily stepping inside, “how was your day? 

Darcy look a deep steadying breath, Wyborn fussing slightly in the carrier, “so he’s not going to grow up normal. He’s gonna be, like, young.” 

He looked at her questioningly. “What, young? I’m not following you Darcy,” he shook his head, moving in to follow after her pacing form. 

“Like he’s be slow. Well, not, no, wait, not that it matters if he is neurotypical, he’s my son, but he’s going to be my son for-like-ever,” she looked up at his nervously. 

Bucky squinted his eyes and stepped in front of her to stop her pacing. He ducked his knees slightly and caught her fidgeting shoulders in his hands. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered. 

Darcy’s head snapped up and she looked on at him in awe. “He might be a toddler for a few decades,” she warned. 

Bucky’s eyes gleamed mirthfully, “so?” 

“I think puberty might last just as long,” she groused. 

Bucky chuckled, drawing the two of them into his tight embrace, “quit tryn’a scare me off Doll, it ain’t goin’a work.” He held on for a while before he deftly unfastened the carrier and took Wyborn into the nursery to change. 

The grin that split her face could not be contained. She moved to straighten up the baby bags and called out, “did you eat dinner yet?” 

There was a moments pause, followed closely Bucky’s grunted answer, “uhh.” 

Darcy rolled her eyes and moved toward the kitchen. “How do you feel about lasagna?” she asked checking the supply left in the freezer, she’d need to send for groceries soon; it would be easy now with Bucky, to prep more meals for the two of them, she thought happily after a moment’s consideration. 

He stepped back toward the kitchen with a deep frown on his face, Wyborn lounging across his arm, flashing communicator open in the other. “Sam needs help,” he groaned. 

Darcy tried to keep her face neutral and moved to put the lasagna back in the freezer when he reached out. 

“Wait, no,” he rested a hand on the freezer door, “he’s in the field, I’m just going down to OPCON.” He smirked at her, “save me a plate?” 

She signed and pulled the food back out of the freezer, unable to stop the smile that was slowing tugging on her features. “It’ll be more than an hour to heat up anyway.” 

“Good, then I can duck back out of there an’ avoid the debrief,” he said heading toward the diaper bag in the living room. 

She stopped short and watched his determined stride, “Uh, where are you-“ she trailed off as he picked up the carrier. 

“I said I got nights, right?” he reminded her, smirk ever present. 

Her heart felt like it might leap forth from her chest just to embrace him. “Uh, yeah. You did,” she supplied. 

He gave her a quick nod, as soon as he had Wyborn secured across his chest and left her with a wink.  

The swarm of heat that flooded through her at that moment gave her only enough time to remember to set the oven and loudly clatter the glass casserole inside. A spare thought was given to finding clean clothes as she divested herself of her work pants, top and surprisingly saturated panties not-quite-near the hamper in the corner. Her bra she removed only to fling it harshly toward her closet door, missing the handle landing and slapping it against the door weirdly. But Darcy was already in the bathroom, tub filling with steaming water, as her fingers plucked her nipples to attention and right hand slid carefully into the course hairs at her apex. She winced and quickly ran through the gamut of should I shave-wax-nair before grooming thoughts flew away after the first few swipes across her sensitive nub. She savored the contrast of soft flesh and blunt nails against her clit, before one finger slid down and dipped inside. Working the wetness back up to her clit she couldn’t stop the short huffs of breath exhaling as she crept her finger back down to bury inside of herself, driving it up into the rigid little space, her palm pressing feverously against the bundle of exposed nerves in contrasting strikes. She wondered what Bucky’s face would look like if he was buried in her like this, she wanted his finger, thick and rough from use. She wanted the smooth precise metal to take her apart like this, systematic and- 

“Darce?!” Bucky called her name out from somewhere back in the apartment. 

She choked on her sobs as her body wrecked with spasms and flooded with fire. Her body still uncoordinated, she pulled her hands away, fumbled with the foil wrapping on a bath bomb and dropped it half open, still encased mostly in plastic, but it fizzed and began to discolor the water at once. 

“Yeah?” she called back, her voice a little rough, “I’m in the bath!” she danced over and dipped a toe into the too-hot water and sank down despite the discomfort. There wasn’t nearly enough water to cover her yet, so she sunk lower, hoping for the water level to rise a little. 

A knock sounded on the door and the knob turned slowly, “Doll?” 

Darcy panicked slightly, spun in the water and threw her legs over the edge, the hope that her legs would obscure the parts that the milky green water hadn’t covered yet. But he didn’t come in. 

“You, uh, okay?” he asked hesitantly.  

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, why?” she squeaked. 

“I just wasn’t sure where’d you’d want me sleepin’?" The door came ajar slightly, and she thought she could make out the strands of hair that had swung down in front of his face. 

Her eyes bugged and her mouth spewed forth her answer before she could catch it, "Thor never complained." Jaw snapping shut and eyes squinting in embarrassment she mouthed and berated herself, ' _WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!_ '  

Bucky ducked in a little more, his profile falling into the space between her dark bedroom and the bright bathroom light. "You sure?" He opened the door, looked up and made eye contact with her briefly before his eyes roamed down over the pump flesh of her breasts shielded under an arm, the curve of her knees and the water that dripped off her painted toenails. 

She gulped and managed a smile and a nod, not sure if she could stomach sleeping next to him if he kept looking at her like _that_. "Yeah, I'm sure," she croaked in a voice that did not sound like sex, her teeth sunk into the corner of her mouth before she could stop the action, which she immediately released, and looked up at him, face bright pink. 

He'd noticed. 

He'd swallowed hard, heat rising on his own throat. 

"I'll see you tonight, Doll," he intoned gravelly. Then he reached down and adjusted his pants before shutting the door. 

Darcy slid lower in the tub and contemplated drowning herself. 

She snuck her hand down to the throbbing ache between her thighs instead. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, I knew it'd been a minute since I updated, but jesus. I'm sorry guys I hadn't realized it's been a month. I guess that can attest to how crazy I've been. This chapter is the second longest so far (last chapter clocked a little over 4k), and features the much anticipated (I hope) Jane explosion. I need to give a shout out here to Liebekatze , you have no idea how much of a positive feeling you gave me yesterday when I got that kudo email. Seriously. I don't think I would have made the effort I had to hammer out the 1200 words it took to finish this chapter without you.
> 
> So the Russian translations are right next to the Russian phrases, why? Because I have a difficult time bouncing back and forth between what the characters are saying versus what the translation is; its google translate, nothing fancy so all errors we can blame on me. The point of the Russian though, is not that you guys don't know what Bucky is saying, it's so that Darcy doesn't know what he's saying. Why? Because he has feelings and it's easier for him to hide behind words that he knows she won't understand than it would be to just outright tell her. 
> 
> Also, there's a bit of smut here. So enjoy.

Darcy’s chilled-in evening lasted until around ten, when she began to feel the couch cushions attempting to absorb her into their clutches once again. So she cleaned up her plate, half empty wine glass and turned off the Cutthroat Kitchen episode that she was hardly paying attention and moved to turn in for the night.

She woke up sometime later to the dip of the bed and the soft creaks of her mattress. Her eyes flicked open and she caught the blurry image of Bucky climbing under the covers.

He paused when he saw her open eyes, and squinted into the darkness, “sorry,” he whispered, “didn’t mean to wake you.”

She shrugged as best she could and shuffled closer to the edge of her pillow. “s’okay,” she mumbled sleepily. “How was he?”

Bucky sunk into the space closer to the middle of the bed and propped his head up on his arm, “he was great, wasn’t fussy,” he leaned in and closed the gap between them, and yawned slowly, “I just finished feedin’ him.”

“Mmm,” Darcy said as she fought to keep her eyes open. “What time is it?” she shuffled her feet under the clovers and came into contact with his shins. Her eyes bulged slightly at the initial contact, but then the heat of him washed over her front and she looked up into his face.

“Just after two,” he muttered, before his head hit the pillow.

A few minutes passed in relative silence, and then Darcy felt the brush of his fingertips over her arm.

More minutes ticked on as they slowly adjusted, moved to settled into each other’s space. “This ok?” His arm settled across her back, his fingers looped figures along the line of her spine.

“Almost.” Her knee drew back from between his thighs, lurched forward to bracket over his hip, her foot pushed his thigh between her own. Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt, face pressed against the skin of his throat.

They paused, stillness fell over them and just breathed. He puffed air out slowly on top of her head. His lips stuck in her hair.

Then Wyborn released a piercing scream and Darcy stiffened in terror as her heart pounded escape her chest.

She groaned and released his shirt, making the effort to draw back.

“No,” Bucky said, as he dipped down and kissed her forehead. “I got him, you get some sleep.” He rolled away and stood silently, padded back around the bed to the crib, and eased the crying infant into his arms, “ _Пойдем со мной, война медведь, пусть твоя мать спать_ ,” [Come with me, war bear, let your mom sleep] he mumbled and retreated from the bedroom, the door shut quietly with a click behind him. Darcy heard the soft murmur of his soothing baritone calm the wails of Wyborn. She moved into the space where the heat from his body hadn’t warmed the bed, but left the lingering scent of him and pressed her face into his cool pillow.

 

 

The soft light of the overcast morning woke her before her alarm. She was still curled in around Bucky’s pillow, tangled in the sheets that lost their masculine scent through the night. She moved slowly, extricated herself from the bed, and cast a furtive glance (once she donned her glasses) over to the empty crib.

Her heart sunk as a slew of negative thoughts raced through her head, all along the same vein of _‘you suck as a parent, your child is horrible and you are going to be in this alone.’_ She exhaled harshly and set to dress for the morning. Her alarm sounded as she was brushing her teeth and she let the soft chirp play until she finished, then turned to shut it off.

Trepidation marked her steps as she walked through the bedroom toward the living room. Her heart beat out a staccato sentence.

_‘He’s going to leave. He’s going to leave. He’s going to leave.’_

Darcy’s first peak into the living room slowed to a crawl as she made her way fully into the room and absorbed the scene before her: Wyborn was sound asleep on the couch. Wyborn was sound asleep on Bucky’s chest who was also asleep on the couch. The open mouth pucker of the baby’s lips was just shy of Bucky’s collar bone. The man was reclined, but mostly upright, his head tipped back against the cushions of the couch, one leg stretched out across the upholstery, the other pressed down into the carpet. His hand rested against the small bump of Wyborn’s butt, supported him and braced him through the night – or however long they had maintained that position.

He hadn’t seemed to wake up at the sound of her alarm or through her morning routine, so she headed into the kitchen to fix their coffees. She found the coffee pot was already-mostly brewed, that the machine had been preset sometime last night. Two travel mugs set next to a clean spoon and her sugar jar. Only one baby bottle sat on the drying mat, the others already filled with a pre-mix of formula. Her sunken heart rose and beat erratically in her throat. She didn’t remember if she set any of this out before bed, and she distinctly remembered there being three bottles that needed sanitized.

_‘He did this. He did this. He did this.’_

It was really hard to discourage her heart from swelling with happiness. She stopped trying after she started making their coffee.

She gingerly set his down on the coffee table after she tiptoed her way into the living room. She perched herself on the edge of the table, in his line of sight but just out of easy reach. “Bucky?” she whispered, her fingers rubbing along the top of his bent knee. “Bucky it’s morning,” she said a little louder.

His eyes cracked open, and he smiled faintly at her, “ _Доброе утро Любовь_.” [Good morning, love]. It felt more intimate that she thought that it probably should. “I’m ready to head out, if you want to get more sleep,” she frowned, speaking softly, afraid that she might wake the baby. Bucky ducked his chin down to look at the top of the sleeping infant’s head. “Naw, I gotta get to the range, the class is working on handguns this week,” he said then scrubbed his spare hand over his face. He turned his head toward the clock near the television and cursed softly. “I – you don’t happen to have anything quick for breakfast do you?” Darcy boggled for a moment and racked her brain, “I have muffins? They’re frozen but that’s quick to nuke while you change,” she stood and handed him his coffee in exchange for the still sleeping baby. Bucky took a slow sip of the hot coffee and hummed. “Sounds good, I’m not picky,” he smiled and leaned down to press his lips against her cheek. She moved Wyborn to his carrier and the bags to the door. She found a banana nut and a blueberry muffin in the freezer and warmed the both quickly. Bucky rejoined her shortly, changed from loose sweats and a soft tee shirt into tactical pants and a Henley. He juggled the two steaming muffins from the microwave and shouldered the bags before Darcy could stop him. She grabbed the coffees and made their way to Tony’s lab.  Their goodbye was similar to the previous morning’s, with the exception of Bucky hip-checking the table as he raced down the hall back into the elevator. He left her the blueberry muffin, she saw with a smile. Tony’s grin was more genuine this morning when he jokingly asked her what the soldier’s rush had been. Darcy rolled her eyes and switched the topic of conversation, “Tony, I need to ask you a favor.”

 

 

The morning progressed from the usual teasing insults to actual science when Tony had started working on a robotic eye for Clint. Darcy was tasked to try her hand at several grant proposals, a defense contract Tony wanted to bid for, and she remember just where she had several good templates stored. Jarvis couldn’t remote access her laptop while it was offline, so she scrapped from the depths of her strength reserves and headed to her old lab.

It was barren but for the boxes of medical equipment from where Dr. Cho was using for excess storage. She found the sticker covered monstrosity sitting near a half-full box.

“What are you doing in here?” Jane’s voice sounded icy from the stacks of wire racks along the wall.

Darcy looked up, she wasn’t sure how she missed the flannel clad form of her former friend in the stark brightness of the lab. She gulped and tried to stop the waiver in her voice as her throat trembled. “I need my laptop, it has templates and forms that Tony needs.”

Jane scoffed indignantly. “Good luck with that, you can’t use any of my research anyway. I had Ian wipe it so just take it.”

Darcy glared at her childish behavior. “What the fuck is your problem with me? Seriously?! Jane you were my best fucking friend and then all of a sudden you weren’t! What happened?!” Darcy bit from behind clenched teeth.

“You cost me my job and my reputation!” Jane snapped back, “Its worse now than it was in New Mexico! Everything that I’ve ever worked for, all of my dreams and accomplishments washed away because you can’t handle a little responsibility for once in your goddamn life!”

Darcy looked taken aback. “Jane what are you talking about? This is about Wyborn? He’s your son, how is that my responsibility?!” Her softening voice escalated in volume, but remained firm.

“If you had just watched him like I asked, did something useful and something that’s obviously more on par with your level of skill,” Jane barked desperately.

“You dropped him on my door step and dropped off of the fucking map for WEEKS. You REFUSED contact! You ABANDONED him!” Darcy hollered, her voice breaking with the force of her words.

“I never wanted him in the first place!” Jane shrieked hysterically.

Darcy’s heart dropped down, somewhere eighty floors below she was pretty sure the janitors would have to clean the blood splatter out of the carpet in the lobby. “What?” it was a shaky, quiet thing that crawled out of her mouth.

Jane’s anger had not been dulled. “He put a baby in me that I didn’t want, didn’t ask for and I couldn’t fucking get rid of!”

Darcy’s eyes widened in panic, her heart jump-started into an immediate sprint, “Wait -Jane, what? No,” she shook her head. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“Do you know what the failure rates for abortions are? Astronomically low. I’ve seen the math, I’ve done the math, failure rates are more likely than discovering an alien prince from across the Einstein-Rosen Bridge,” her bitterness was an acid bath on Darcy’s whole body. She stumbled and captured the edge of the desk to keep upright.

She felt numb. “You,” swallowing down the bile that threatened her throat. “you tried to terminate my son?”

“Once when I found out,” Jane had the good sense to shut her teeth quickly at the look of righteous anger that burned in Darcy’s eyes.

“AND?” she barked.

Jane now swallowed, fear colored her next words, “again before the second trimester.”

Darcy was a tower of fury, fingers curled tight into fists, posture stiff she nearly shook with the effort.

Jane started spewing word vomit and only made it worse. “You took his side and you don’t understand what it was like; like your body gets hijacked and you have no control over how everything swells and bloats and you just want food and sex and you can’t stop it!” Jane seemed to lose steam as Darcy’s glare cowed the woman back toward the shelves.

“If you think, for one minute that I will take that as a valid excuse for your lack of communication in expressing your wants and desires in your relationship with Thor, you’re mistaken. You never had a problem making what you want known and going for it with wild abandon. But you’re wrong. You were wrong when you did this, Jane. You fucked up. You had a great man, and an amazing little person who was going to look up at you like you hung all of those stars that you love so much. Much more than him. But that’s ok. You can go and fuck off and play with your space. It’s what you really wanted all along, right? Just Jane. Genius, astrophysicist, _alone_. Congratulations. I think you’ve got everything you’ve ever desired.” Darcy gave her one last once-over and dismissed her, “go be you, Jane.”

 

The wait for Bucky to show up was only broken by the flashes of anger and suffocating depression; Wyborn cooed and gurgled from his swing, intermittently crying out, where Darcy would soothe a hand across his brow, reclaim a discarded toy to reintroduce and hum softly out of tune.

It was nearly eight before Bucky knocked quietly on the door and Darcy let him in. He was white faced, and there were specks of red dashed across his face and the front of his shirt. She took one serious look at him and shoved her frustration to the side and pulled him to the table to sit. “What happened, are you ok? Is that blood?”

Bucky swallowed greedily from the water that she placed in front of him. “There was a cadet, who did something stupid during firearms training today. Shot himself,” he said staring off in the direction of the swing.

“Shit, is he okay? Was anyone else hurt?” Darcy asked, her fingers dug into the back of the chair.

He didn’t answer for a minute.

“Oh god,” she said, the chair whined against the floor before she fell into it and reached for his fingers wrapped tight around the glass.

After another long moment, Bucky clutched back at her fingers and squeezed gently. “You should head to bed,” he reached over to pat her wrist.

“No,” she said firmly. “You go shower. Wash the day away, and then we’re going to bed.”

Bucky looked up at her, eyes narrowing critically. “No,” he spoke softly. “What happened today,” he asked. “You look like you’re hanging on by a thread.”

Darcy’s hair was mussed and tied tightly against the side of her head, her eyes were rimmed red, and her lips where swollen and raw from where she must have been chewing on them. She shook her head and leaned forewarned, “Bucky, you’ve got blood on your face.”

He recoiled quickly at that, careened off down the hall to the bedroom; seconds later, Darcy jumped as she heard the door slam shut and the shower turn on. Wyborn let out an unhappy grumble and Darcy rose to retrieve him. She changed and prepared the overnight feeding bottles and had him lain out in the bed with her as she waited for Bucky to finish up.

 

Her skin felt like it was on fire, her breathes came in labored heaves, and the calloused fingertips that brushed along the length of her sides. Her hands clutched at hard shoulders, nails driven into flesh on one side and caught on the metal seams of another.

She became aware of the movement; her skin slicked with sweat, the sheets sliding against the mattress, the swirl of his hips against hers, and the rough, deep thrusts that matched the rhythm of her breathing, and the pounding in her chest.

A moan stirred in the depths of her gut, clawed its way to her throat where it whined through her bitten lips, as his head dipped to nip along her jaw.

She wondered what he sounded like when he came.

 

Darcy jolted awake.

She was superheated and sweaty, her limbs tingling with the unfinished need dancing under her skin. She groaned and threw her head back to the pillow.

She was alone, the other side of the bed was cold.

And her panties were uncomfortably wet.

She didn’t think that she could finish what her mind started, there was no telling where Bucky was, so she stood a moved to the dresser, intent on changing.

The door creaked open and Bucky slipped in. “Darcy?” he asked as he saw her paused halfway to her dresser. “What’s wrong,” he moved quickly into her space, hands spanned across her waist.

Her fingers clutched at his shoulders and she looked up at him, nipples hard and protruding against the soft sleep shirt, face a mix of exhaustion and lust.

His brow furrowed contemplatively.

A whine caught in the back of her throat, her fingers twitching on his muscles, “need you,” the whine had said, forcing its way from between her lips.

Bucky’s eyes locked on hers with a laser focus.

She wouldn’t have been able to hoist herself to him, or drag him down to her if he didn’t want it too. Her lips pressed against his hungrily, she bit at his bottom lip then flicked her tongue across to soothe it.

His fingers where in her hair, tangled but pulled it lose from the tie. He forced her back to the bed, where they both collapsed. His lips made a study of her face and neck.

Her hands squeezed and tugged, freeing him of his shirt, her hips widened to receive his bulk between them.

The thickness that pressed into her heat caused the both to react, her with a guttural cry, him with a hiss of need.

His hand slipped from her hair, burned a path down over her breast, to the space he created between the two of them. He cursed as his fingers slid through the wetness evident on her underwear.

She sobbed lightly at the contact and jerked her hips to increase the friction.

“Can I?” he asked against her lips.

Darcy nodded her head vigorously, “please, please, please,” she chanted.

Bucky dropped to his knees on the bed and moved backward, pulling her soaked panties with him. He balled them into one fist and gently guided her legs apart. He placed a delicate kiss against the inside of her knee and lifted it to place over his shoulder. He sank once again before her, fixed her other leg over his opposite shoulder. Bucky looked up at her heatedly and met her gaze, his fingers dipped between them again and spread her open, exposed her sensitive skin to the cooler air.

“I need this too,” he said, and then his mouth was on her. Ge gently tongued at her clit, lapped it lazily, drew it between his lips and sucked on it.

She covered her sob with her hand as she fell back against the bed and fought against the urge to wrap her fingers into his hair and rut against his face.

A finger dipped into her, just up to the first knuckle and she clenched down on it tightly. Bucky withdrew the one finger, then added a second. He crooked them towards himself until she nearly came off the bed at the sensation. The he stretched her with a third.

“Oh god, Bucky, please, please, please, please,” she begged, her hips squirmed against the delicious burn and pressure.

He hummed against her, his lips vibrating against her, just enough to push her into a freefall of pleasure.

Her skin combusted and she keened loudly, panted and tensed through the sensation of him still coaxing her, this tongue still massaging.

When she jerked her hips away from the stimulation, he retreated, pressed kisses to her thighs, her stomach, crawled up beside her. She curled into him, wanted to hold him and stay in this moment for a while. Until she felt the insistent twitch of his erection between them, when she wanted to grip him tight and guide him inside, and he could stay there for a while. She began to tug his sweats down with that intent when Wyborn cried out from the living room.

Bucky sighed deeply and pulled back, away from Darcy’s exploring fingers. He held her face between her hands and whispered to her, “ _Ты мой мир_.” [You are my world.] Then he kissed her gently and dragged himself from the bed. “Get some more sleep, Darcy,” he said before the door closed between them. She didn’t want to go back to sleep. She wanted him back next to her then, but her eye lips protested, and she dropped back off to sleep, satisfied and undreaming.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of back? I lost my muse for a while, left the fandom a bit and was focusing on RL; sorry to do that, I really appreciate all of the feedback and kudos while I've been away. I am back to this story and I have 1.75 chapters completed past this post, and I'm continuing more today. I think part of not writing was I didn't have a vision for the journey; I don't outline my stories, I can't write like that, I never have been able to, and the things that I kind of wanted to go towards I wasn't finding a way to get there. Well we have a path now. I can't guarantee I'll have another update by Sunday, but I've been sitting on this chapter for about a month and I wanted to let you all know that I wasn't finished with this.

The room was still bathed in the early morning darkness when the windows rattled Darcy awake. Her heart slammed against her ribs and she gasped for air. She sat up and scrambled for her glasses, as the door pressed open and the soft light from the hallway stretched a stripe of soft yellow across the floor and up the wall. "лапочка- Darcy? Sweetheart, I need to go," Bucky approached the bed, Wyborn and a bottle in his arms. 

Darcy rubbed her face and looked up at him, light slashed across his features, followed by a soft chime. 

"Sgt. Barnes, your quinjet is prepped and ready for your departure," Jarvis intoned softly. 

He moved swiftly to her on the side of the bed and sat down gently waiting for her to sit up. "We got an alert, there's an AIM-" Darcy missed the next few words as light and sound collided outside, and a blast of heat from the windows hit her unexpectedly. Then Bucky stood before her, shielded both her and the baby from the danger. "Get to the labs, you'll be safe there, okay?" He pleaded and handed her the distraught baby.

"Yeah, ok, of course," she stood on wobbly legs and reached for Wyborn out of Bucky's arms. He guided them through the bedroom and out into the apartment, softly lit by Jarvis, and she felt the thick padding of his glove pressed against her lower back. He scooped up the diaper bag and carried it to the elevator for her.

"Here, watch him," he said and gently guided the strap of it over her shoulder and under her arm, settling it in front of Wyborn, on her chest. His hands slid up her sides to cup her face; the elevator chimed before them, but Bucky cradled Darcy's neck in his hands, gloved thumbs rubbing against her jaw and he drew her in carefully for a sweet, exploring kiss.

She tasted the bitterness of coffee on his tongue, mixed faintly with the taste of her that made her chase his lips as he pulled back.

"I need to do that more often," he nipped at her lips as he moved back.

Darcy hummed, her eyebrows lifted to her hairline, "you do. All of it," she looked up at him, hopeful.

His smile waned as he backed away from the two of them.

Darcy reached up to Wyborn to position his bottle and ease his temper. "Bucky?" She called out as she saw him backing toward the stairwell. "Come back, ok? Come home to us." She pressed.

His eyes glimmered dark blue as he nodded, "I promise, дорогая," and then he disappeared through the door.

Darcy and Wyborn boarded the elevator and rose in silence to the labs.

She entered into chaos.

"Hold! Still! Damnit Clint-I can't attach it if you keep moving," Tony shouted to a prone Clint, suited in tactical gear while Tony's fingers – covered in neoprene – stuck wires and a metal casing into Clint's face.

"Fuckin' hurts man, ease up," Clint shouted back.

"Lewis! Help!" Tony called as he looked up. "WHOA! Pants ON in the lab at all times! Pepper's rules!" Tony shrieked, eyes raised to the ceiling.

Darcy froze and looked down, "oh shit," she grumbled. 

"What's that?" Clint asked, as Darcy realized the man probably did not have his hearing aids turned on, based on the volume of his and Tony's conversation. "Huh," Clint mused with a grin, as he eyed her unrepentant. 

"Oh fuck off, Barton," Darcy growled and moved towards her office where she knew she had spare clothing stashed.

"Still can't hear you and those are not lips that I can read- wait is that a hickey?" he cackled unmercilessly. 

Darcy set Wyborn down in his swing and tugged down on the oversized tee shirt, leaned out of the door to shout, "I SAID FUCK OFF," and slammed the door with a sharp bang.

Wyborn startled and cried at the sudden shout and noise.

Darcy covered her forehead with her hands and cursed softer, "shit."

If she hid in her office and held Wyborn until he calmed back down into an easy sleep and then buried herself in forms and reports until Barton disappeared (not before he gave her a leering grin and a jaunty wave) well, at least Tony wouldn't blame her.

There was a soft knock on her glass door before it slid open and Tony wheeled in, "Clint's gone; and I promise never to bring it up if you don’t," he hedged, as he rolled back and forth, which reminded Darcy of how he used to fidget when he stood still.

Darcy scoffed, "Oh I'm sure Clint has already," she groused.

He bit his lips and cocked his head to the side. "Anyway," Darcy said as she pushed herself back from her desk and stood looking Tony over thoroughly, "I think both of us are in need of coffee."

This was punctuated by Tony's jaw-cracking yawn and the deep gurgle which emanated from her own stomach.

Tony's eyes bulged as his eyes dropped to her stomach, "wow Lewis, feeding for two?" he joked poorly.

She leveled a glare and a finger in his direction, "I will poison your coffee Tony. Pepper will not blame me."

Darcy's early evening of bulk cooking, Game of Thrones and the alternating deep worry and near-paralyzing concern about the reports that AIM had scattered in retreat and seized a number of hostages (which prolonged the return of the Avengers), was interrupted by a succinct knock on her door. Puzzled, she checked on the sleeping child and then moved to the door. 

She opened it without a glance through the peephole and was greeted with the sight of a stiff-looking Natasha. They both might have frozen in surprise at the other. "Uh, hi," Darcy managed after another second of silence.

"Hello," was Natasha's quiet reply. She blinked twice and then smirked a little, "may I?" She indicated her desire for entry with a tilt of her head.

Darcy sputtered slightly and stepped away from the doorway to permit the woman entrance. She stood affixed to the door, as Natasha prowled the layout of her apartment's main area. Darcy watched as the woman navigated the room as a cat would, brushed against surfaces until she found herself in the kitchen, the massive stock pot of bubbled with a tomato sauce and the preparations for a beef dish spread across the counter. She inspected the ingredients before her and looked up sharply at Darcy.

"You're making stroganoff?" Natasha asked. If Darcy knew her better, she might think the woman was excited.

Darcy shrugged and finally released the door knob. "Yeah, my mom used to make it all the time. It's one of my favorites."

Natasha picked up the bag of egg noodles and cast them to the side, "do you have any potatoes?"

As she moved back toward the kitchen, Darcy nodded and indicated to the small pantry wall. "There should be some in there."

Natasha retrieved three small potatoes and tsked in disappointment. "Jarvis, достаньте мешок с картошкой в эту квартиру. Пожалуйста." (Jarvis, deliver a sack of potatoes to this apartment. Please.)

A soft chime proceeded, "Однажды, Ms. Romanoff," in a crisp tone. (At once.)

Darcy looked bewildered between her ceiling and Natasha.

"Start slicing those, like matchsticks," Natasha instructed, setting the potatoes in front of Darcy as she examined a knife from the block.

Darcy felt an odd anxiety settle across her shoulders, but she washed her hands and then the potatoes, and began to carefully slice the spuds with the knife Natasha laid down next to the cutting board.

"Which pan do you use for frying?" 

Over the next 40 minutes, a sack of potatoes were delivered, and Natasha coached Darcy through frying matchstick potatoes while she replicated Darcy's family recipe from thin air. Darcy took contextual clues from Natasha's tone if she was being praised or scolded, because more and more of her sentences were spoken in Russian. Darcy felt lost and was slightly on edge in her own apartment, she found herself not fully comfortable with the thought that she could so something to incur the wrath of the Russian Fatale.

Then Wyborn cried out and Darcy nearly shook from the relief of it. She rushed through heating a bottle, all while she sung softly to soothe the child. She scooped him up and hustled to his changing table to dispose of his dirty diaper and then she held him tightly to her chest and offered him the formula.

"You  _are_ an excellent mother," Natasha said from her position against the kitchen counter.

Darcy startled and then relaxed. Natasha's eyes glimmered with approval and Darcy felt the flood of relief wash over her at the praise. This woman was the most intimidating being she'd ever encountered. And she had fought against Dark Elves.

"Come. The food is ready. I'll take Wyborn, you go and change, he'll be home soon," Natasha said as she reached her arms up in offering.

Darcy's heart thudded happily in her chest as she walked to Natasha and gently placed her son in the assassin's arms. She ran a finger down Wyborn's brow and the infant sighed with contentment.

Natasha reached out and gipped Darcy lightly in a soft hug, " _you_ are a very excellent mother," and she kissed her cheek affectionately, and with that, Darcy realized it what it was like to try and impress your boyfriend's scary twin sister.

She shook the thoughts from her head as she rushed to her room and changed out of her food stained clothing and ran a brush through her hair before so she could smooth it up into a large bun. She returned to the kitchen to see that Natasha had set two large plates piled high with the stroganoff and topped with the fried potato sticks. 

"Mmm, what smells so good?" Bucky asked as he eased through the door. He was dressed in clean fatigues, but still carried the scent of gunpowder and smoke behind him. "бефстроганов befstróganov?" (Beef Stroganoff?)

"Yes," Natasha said, while she moved toward the door with Wyborn and his diaper bag in tow. "Enjoy your evening," she sent an amused look toward Darcy and wiggled her eyebrows, before she left them with a smirk.

Bucky looked after her in shock, then turned to see a similar expression on Darcy's face. He thumbed over his shoulder at the closed door, "d'you want me to go get him?"

Darcy's mouth opened and closed, "I can't decide if I'm terrified or grateful," she informed him.

"That's it, I'm going to go get 'im," Bucky said and turned to open the apartment door.

Darcy reached a hand up, "No, no wait. Let's not – I mean," she sighed heavily. "Does it make me a bad mom that I just want to spend a kid-free night with my boyfriend?" She pressed a hand up to smooth over her hair, before she blanched and stammered. "Not that you're my boyfriend, as we haven't even talked about any of that, or put a title on what is going on  _here_ ," she motioned between them.

The smile Bucky aimed at her was radiating, "you callin' me your fella?"

She blushed and found her chipped toe nail polish in need of her attention. "Well, I don't let just any guy sleep in my bed," she stammered.

He nodded he head in assent, "So you an Thor-?" He cut himself off, torn between quiet anxiety and dissolving hope.

"No!" Darcy shook her head and met his uncertain gaze fiercely. "Thor and I aren't like that. He's like my brother, he's-" she smiled easily as Bucky began to close the distance between them. "He's not you," she shrugged.

Bucky hummed his agreement, stepping into her space. The heat from his body crashed over hers, his masculine scent mixed with the faded smell of gunpowder and sweat. Darcy felt her heart pound heavily through her body and fire stir in her belly. He reached up to brush his fingers over her neck and down her arm to loosely grip her fingers. "You hungry?"

Darcy blinked and squeezed his fingers in hers. She moved her free hand up to trace the seam of his shoulder. "I could wait," she shrugged and smiled eagerly up at him.

He grunted his approval and moved his metal hand along her waist, he pressed their bodies together and with a huff, slid that hand down over her ass to grip her and pull her up against his tactical pants. He pulled their linked fingers back to deposit her other hand on his shoulder, and walked them over to the counter. 

As soon as her bottom reached the granite, she moved back and in the space and reached down to unhook her button and yank the zipper down. Bucky's hands on her waist divested her hips and ass of the denim encasing her and set her bared bottom on the cold counter. She shook one foot loose from her pants and wrapped that foot around his backside, pulling the two of them together as she readjusted her angle from her position.

Bucky's hand was already in his unfastened pants, working his cock out of the top of his black briefs as Darcy nudged his pants and underwear lower on his thighs. He reached up and rubbed his metal thumb along Darcy's bottom lip. She flicked her tongue out to taste it, cool and tangy on her tongue. Then he put two of his fingers to her lips and she opened her mouth, and greedily sucked them in. She hummed pleasantly as she rubbed her tongue on the underside of his fingers and made him groan at the sensation. He pulled her fingers from her mouth with a soft pop and immediately moved the warm and wet digits between her thighs to test the slick heat gathered there. His fingers moved easily into her, prodded at her g-spot, massaged when she gyrated on his hand.

His lips sucked feverish kisses onto her neck and he growled into her ear, "I want to be inside of you. Can I please be inside of you?" He begged.

"Ah... ahh.. Bucky  _please_!" She whimpered as his fingers pulled from her and reached down to mix her juices with the moisture that leaked from his tip. His fingers pumped and spread their fluids over his shaft, while Darcy circled her hips over the edge of the counter. She bit her lip as Bucky crowded into her, bent his knees to align their bodies together. 

“Hey, hey,” he whispered softly against her lips, the fingers of his right-hand tangled in the hair at her neck. "I've got you, ok? I want to, лапочка может я?" (Sweetheart, may I?) he rasped as he nipped against her jaw, the blunt head of him pressed against her entrance.

"So close," she squeaked and levered herself off of the edge of the counter, and impaled herself on him with a whine.

Bucky panted heavily against her lips, her breath came in ragged inhales as he clenched at her hips with the need to still her movement. "Oh god, Darcy," he grunted as she squirmed in his arms, her walls pulsed erratically when she threw her head back in a soundless wail. As he growled through her orgasm, he clutched her tight to him to in effort not to release his own need; when her spasms abated and she began to roll her hips against him, he withdrew his cock to the tip before he drove back into her with short, purposeful thrusts.

Darcy cried out, her arms propelled her up and down as she held fast to the granite, a counterpoint to Bucky's rough fucking. A string of Russian poured from Bucky's mouth, a plea against her collar bone as she bounced against his masterful thighs. She reached up to cling to him them. His speed slowed, but the force grew. He bucked his hips into her, groaned against her mouth as she felt herself reach the precipice of orgasm again, but not fall over.

She watched his face, jaw slack and eyes rolled to the ceiling, he twitched again inside her and she whimpered at the closeness of her own orgasm as it began to ebb. He shuddered and licked his lips, closed his jaw and stepped forward to rest her on the counter top. 

Bucky brought his hands up to her face, his eyes searched hers, still blown wide with need. He kissed her lips gently and withdrew his semi from inside of her.

Darcy rocked forward once again as he brushed against her g-spot, but she bit her lip at the emptiness of his retreat.

He chuckled lowly and reached for the hem of his shirt, "here," he offered, his shirt piled under her bare bottom. Then he spread her thighs wide.

"Bucky, wait- what are you?" Darcy asked when her sex was exposed to the cool air around them.

Bucky lifted an eyebrow and pulled up a bar stool in front of her, "cleaning up my mess," he winked and then dove in with his tongue.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the warm welcome home; I've got something for you all tonight at the "usual" time - I cranked out four chapters last week. My goal for this week is two :).
> 
> Enjoy!

Bucky woke up the next morning, happy to be naked and wrapped only in a thin bedsheet. However, he felt a pang of disappointment to find himself alone. The smell of bacon and cinnamon wafted into the bedroom, and the soft sound of music from the hallway alerted him that both Darcy and Wyborn were awake.

He shuffled quietly into his pants from the night before and then down the hall so as not to startle the woman who danced around the kitchen in his shirt as she sung into a wooden spoon at her son.

"I'm walking on sunshine! Woah-oh! I'm walking on sunshine! Woah-oh!" She grinned and wiggled her make-shift microphone at the happy infant, who was wrapped in the morning light as he giggled at Darcy. 

Bucky looked on, his chest felt full and hot, the brightness from the early sun speared through the windows and basked the room in soft orange warmth. He was stolen from his reverie by his communicator vibrating against his thigh, he ignored its call and made his way down the hall and into Darcy's line of sight.

She was occupied with a tray of cinnamon buns she had pulled from the oven When she set them on the counter, she felt hands on her waist and then _Bucky_ , crowded into her space, nuzzled her neck and turned her in his arms.

He pressed warm light kisses to her mouth. "Good morning," he greeted, "how did you sleep?" He asked wolfishly.

She melted in his embrace, but shot him a conspiratorial leer, "I didn't get any sleep last night, _someone_ couldn't keep their hands to themselves!" She yelped and jumped in his hold when one of his hands ghosted over her backside, naked under the oversized shirt. "Bucky," she admonished, "not in front of the baby," she eyed the curious-looking infant.

Bucky turned his eyes over his shoulder and then moved to pick up Wyborn, "Доброе утро, маленький военный медведь! Вы повеселились с Тетя Натальей? Пусть папа положит вас на качели, ему и маме нужно есть." (Good morning, little war bear! Did you have fun with Aunty Natalia? Let Papa put you in your swing, he and Mama need to eat.) He babbled in Russian to the babe as he lifted and snuggled the child from his carrier on the counter to the swing on the other side of the eating area. He pressed a gentle kiss to the boy's brow and strapped him in, turning the mobile, music and swing functions on. 

When he turned back to Darcy, she swallowed her mouthful of coffee loudly, her nipples already hardened in response to the fiery look he aimed at her as he stalked back toward her. Her cup clattered loudly in the sink as Bucky reached her and lifted her to the counter with a thump.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Darcy whispered as she rested her hands on Bucky's forearms, nails snagged along the edge of his seams. 

He pushed _his_ shirt up to her hips. "Getting ready to eat breakfast," he grumbled, "why?" he gave her a smug grin. 

Darcy couldn't stop the nervous guffaw that shot from her belly. "Bucky, you can't eat _me_ for breakfast."

He reached over and pulled a still-too-hot cinnamon bun from the tray and popped it into his mouth, inhaled rapidly to disperse the heat. "Yes I can," he nodded emphatically as he managed to speak around the sweet. "Every meal. Until you tell me I can't."

She giggled. "You're going to make my legs all sticky," she complained light-hearted.

"That's kind of the point," he said as he dropped to his haunches. His tongue felt a tad warmer as he licked deeply into her slit, her back bowed, and she pressed her hips forward for more.

The soft chime of Jarvis sounded overhead. "Apologies Ms. Darcy, but Sargent Barnes, you are being summoned by Acting Director Hill for an urgent briefing."

Darcy panted as Bucky continued to flick his tongue against her clit, he slowed to look up at her face. Then his lips fastened to her and sucked hard. She bit her lip and smacked her head against the cabinet behind her when she came with a quiet gasp, her body shuddered its release.

"Barnes," Hill's voice barked through the overhead.

Bucky's mouth stopped its ministrations on Darcy and he pulled upright suddenly. His hands flew to her hips to steady her involuntary twitches.

There was a pregnant pause, and then, "Wilson went down last night; he's in surgery now. You need to suit up." 

The silence that followed felt like being dragged under a torrent of icy waves. Fear and guilt washed over them both in equal measure. Bucky's head was ducked low, his shoulders tensed and brow furrowed painfully tight, like the space between his brows was fused together. Darcy hitched giant shaky breaths into her lungs, her hands squeezed Bucky's biceps, as she willed him to meet her desperate gaze.

"You need to get dressed," he said as he pulled away to finally looked up at her face. His eyes were wild with fear. "Get dressed, Darce. And get the baby to the lab." He turned tucked his swollen cock back into his pants and fastened the zipper coldly over himself, before he turned on his heel and stomped to the exit.

She hastened off the counter and dashed into the bedroom. Drawers slammed shut as she put on more clothes than she had planned for this day in its entirety. 

By the time she had scooped up Wyborn (who had by some miracle fallen asleep and not roused at the careless noise) and the diaper bag her face was drenched in tears. Her retreat to the lab was as quick as Jarvis could move the elevator, and when she entered the space she dropped the bag and huffed an agitated breath. "Sam's hurt," she spat venomously, "and they're making Bucky leave," she choked out.

Tony dropped his tools to the table and whipped his chair toward her, "let's go," he rushed passed her and to the elevator.

Darcy wept softly into Wyborn's shoulder, as she pressed his little body closer to her chest. Tony's fingers flexed and twitched before he rested his warm hand on her lower back in an effort to comfort. She sighed heavily and dropped her hip to press against his shoulder and the wheelchair.

"It'll be okay," Tony said in the shuddered silence, broken up only by the sound of her sniffles.

The doors opened to the clean lines of the dark gray halls. Tony led the Darcy out, his hand still pressed to her lower back, a gesture she absorbed and cherished, familial in nature and anchoring her in the moment. He moved toward the left, arched a wide turn to push her in that direction and where they were met with indecipherable shouts and the slam of doors.

"You do not have a choice Barnes, SHIELD needs you," Hill said as she walked out of her office, her smart heels clicked a furious pace as she swept down the hall towards them.

"I didn't sign up for this! Sam didn't either, I'm sorry he's hurt, but it's not my fuckin' problem. I'm not Captain America. I got a wife an' a kid damnit, an' 'm not leavin' them anymore to play hero! Send someone else," Bucky barked angrily on her tail as he strode to keep pace with her.

"There is no one else, Sergeant," Hill amended quietly when she halted to face him. "I'm sorry, but there is no one else to send. You are it." And then she turned and moved passed the stunned Tony and Darcy in the walkway to the elevator.

Bucky faltered in his steps at the sight of them, at the wide-eyed look on Darcy's tear-stained face and Tony who had slowly withdrawn his hand from her back.

"Darce-лапочка," he began, his approach slow and telegraphed as he stepped up to her, and then into her space, careful of the infant strapped to her chest.

Tony wheeled back slightly.

"Wife?" Was all Darcy managed to squeak out.

Bucky's lips set in a grim line, "Yeah, s'what I want, with you. If you'll have me," he said, his hands moved up along her neck.

"I, uh," Darcy stammered, her brain uncoordinated and unable to process her desired response of 'yes, please', her mouth equally uncooperative.

"Wanted to ask you right, wanted to do this right." He pressed an easy kiss to her forehead. "When I get back. I'm gunna get you a ring," he told her before he sealed his lips on hers. After several seconds, their chaste kiss lessened and he pulled back.

With her forehead pressed against his she nodded. His hands moved down to trace the lines of baby in the carrier. When his head dipped down to touch a soft kiss to the sleeping infant's head Darcy set her lips to his hair. "Ask me. Hurry back and ask me," she said quickly, more tears dotted in her eyes. "I'm a sure thing," she chuckled mirthlessly, but nodded when he pulled back to meet her gaze.

"Yeah?" He asked, his own eyes rimmed with water. "You sure you want an old man like me?" He groused with a little humor.

Darcy nodded more fiercely, but clicked her tongue, "you're not old," she fussed, her hands shook as she wiped away his own tears. "You're stuck with me and him."

"Mmm, never gettin' rid'a you two," he smiled and brushed another kiss to her lips.

Hill's throat cleared delicately. "Barnes," she said, her tone softer, less demanding.

The hard look had slowly leaked back into his features, "I love you," he told her clearly.

Darcy smiled sadly as he pulled away, she turned and watched him move into the elevator. As the doors slid shut she inhaled and told him, "я тоже тебя люблю " (I love you too). She wasn't sure what she enjoyed more: the look of shock on his face, or the breathtaking smile.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I almost jumped on warcraft and forgot to post this XD - So I've seen a couple of people throughout the story ask about Wyborn's name: I've never seen Coraline, so the "why were you born" didn't even occur to me until someone pointed it out. Thor named him, actually, and it's Norse for War Bear. His middle name is Mareck and that is also a star in the constellation Ursa Major, which would have been for Jane. His name was originally Mac, and Darcy and Bucky were going to call him Mac for Marek, but then Bucky called him War Bear in Russian and I couldn't change that, it's what they wanted.
> 
> Uh, angst ahoy?

Darcy held down the home front like a fucking champ. But as days turned into weeks, and weeks close to months she felt dismayed. Her stomach swooped and her heart plummeted somewhere in the lobby. She almost wanted to ask Tony to designated a spot with enough foot traffic to label where her broken heart was lain to rest.

"I'm sorry Darce, I should have seen it coming."

"I can't get these fucking proto-types... DUM-E NO! Shit, I'm sorry, kid."

"Come to Uncle Clint, little dude. Pizza is healthy for kids, right – awww, Shield, no. Sorry guys."

She stopped counting sleep when she mistook hours slept and days since Bucky Deployed (BD) Day. Natasha helped when she could, but after her third attempt to watch Wyborn overnight left Darcy even more exhausted from the tease of more sleep that she did ended up receiving, she thanked her friend for her efforts and asked her to just help get her more information on Bucky.

Darcy had become extremely disappointed to learn that SHIELD kept him off base; the normal threats that occurred in the city were being handled by Hawkeye and auto-pilot Ironman for the most part, while Natasha bounced around between saving the city and long-range missions. 

So when she came back to her apartment one night, internally debating between the questionable leftover pizza or obscenely old lasagna in the freezer, to the smell of cooking meat and Natasha at her stove she barely contained her sob of relief.

Natasha saw the drained woman in the doorway and scowled in disapproval. She motioned for her to enter, took the child as he roused from her chest carrier and fastened him in his swing, a warm bottle was prepared and pressed gently into his tiny hands. "Go shower. Wash your hair, you look greasy," Natasha scolded and turned back to her pots.

She took her time as she brushed the tangles from her hair, and applied a beauty mask to deep clean her face - something she'd been neglecting and the array of stress acne that dotted her jaw and hairline depressed her further. Darcy scrubbed and picked under her finger nails and removed the months old toe nail polish that clung to her big toes, but had grown off her little ones.

After she was cleaned she found a pair of new leggings and one of Bucky's white undershirts on her bed with a folded pile of laundry behind it. Several of the panties she saw were new to her, but all had their tags removed. 

When she emerged from her room dressed and thankful, she slapped her feet on the floor in her approach to Natasha. "I want to hug you, is that okay?" she asked the assassin.

Turning to face the young mother, the Black Widow's expression softened. "Of course," she said and reached her arms wide in invitation.

Darcy sunk into the embrace and squeezed the woman before her.  "Thank you, for everything."

She didn't answer at first, but held her just a little tighter before she released her and nodded over to the counter. "Sit and eat, please." A bowl of warm borscht with a large dollop of sour cream sprinkled with dill sat on a placemat on the counter, flanked with a hard roll and a glass of water. "You haven't been taking care of yourself," Natasha admonished.

Darcy, with a spoonful of food already in her mouth, frowned and chewed but managed to sass, "it's kind of hard when I'm not a priority."

Natasha leveled a glare at her that made Darcy gulp her food roughly. "Then make time. Tony will understand that you need more than 3 hours of sleep a night and adequate meals. Jarvis can assist you with your work, correct?" 

“That is correct, Ms. Romanov,” the AI intoned.

Natasha nodded in affirmation and then squared her shoulders and leaned her forearms on the counter before Darcy. “You and I both want him to come home in one piece, and he’s doing everything in his power to do so. But they’ve got him back in with HYDRA – he’s all clear of triggers and is working to dismantle them from the inside,” the assassin informed her. “I help where I can, but he can’t let them know that he’s turned. He’s in deep and the last information that relayed was that he wanted SHIELD to keep you safe and out of HYDRA’s purview.” 

Darcy’s brow furrowed deeply, and she pushed the bowl of food away from her. “He’s already in? Wh-why wouldn’t,” she puzzled for a moment, “why would SHIELD willingly hand him over to them? What if they torture him again? Who am I kidding, they ARE going to torture him again. What if he never comes back, at all?!” she yelped and wheezed on her unsteady breaths.

Natasha reached her hands across the counter to Darcy to claim her fingers in a warm, sure grip. “Darcy, that is a possibility. But he couldn’t let the threat of HYDRA exist in your world. He would never forgive himself if something happened. Not to you or Wyborn. He felt that if he couldn’t protect you from them that no life would be worth living.”

Darcy choked on bile and the ruddy taste of beets that rose in her throat. “So he just went on a suicide mission?”

The redhead pursed her lips, “I know that's what it sounds like that, but it’s not.”

“Ms. Darcy, Sergeant Barnes’ skillset is uniquely outfitted for this type of assignment; the likelihood of his proper execution of this mission is favorable,” Jarvis informed them.

“How favorable, Jarvis, give me numbers,” she demanded, as she squeezed Natasha’s fingers unnecessarily tight.

There was a pause, longer than Darcy liked in any case before Jarvis replied. "There is an 64% percent chance that he will return, whole and unharmed."

A silence fell upon the apartment and Darcy felt darkness, unnatural and horrific in her heart. She couldn't hear Natasha as the woman spoke to her, feel the grip of her short nails bite into the flesh of her fingers. Her jaw tingled and her mouth watered, the thwomp-thwomp of her own heart beat in her ears drowned out everything else. Her hand wrenched from the assassin's grip and flew to her mouth just in time to catch the vomit from her retching. She flew to the bathroom before her hands flooded with fluid.

There she was alone, she heaved and gagged, tears streamed down her face and she cried. She wanted him home, she didn't care about HYDRA or AIM or fucking SHIELD, she just wanted him back.

With her head pressed against the cold porcelain and her filthy hands clawed and moved above her head, she sobbed. _Ugly crier_ , she thought, self-depreciated. Her throat burned and she released a gut-punching scream, the pain that rippled out from her heart broke against the ceramic tile of the bathroom. Her ears rang as she sobbed again, quieter, because her throat hurt from that too.

"I'll bring him home, I promise."


	19. Chapter 19

"Ms. Darcy," Jarvis spoke softly.

The woman in question was laid back against the couch, arms folded over her chest and nearly asleep for the first time in twenty hours. She opened one bloodshot eye and leveled a glare at the ceiling. "What Jarvis," it wasn't a bark, but her tone informed the AI that she was not pleased to be disturbed.

"My apologies, Sir has requested that you come into work today," Jarvis stated.

Darcy closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before she turned her face into the couch cushions and let out a gurgle of frustration. As she pulled her face away she sat and pushed her lank hair from her face with a shaky white hand and replied, "fine," bitterly.

As Darcy and Wyborn entered the labs, the music lowered to an acceptable volume for the sleeping infant.

"Well look who's -" Tony began, even though his head stayed bowed to his work.

"Don’t even start," Darcy snapped icily. "He won't sleep, he keeps spitting up his formula and I can only get him to sleep for an hour at a time," she informed her boss with a weary glare.

Tony rolled his stool back, the metallic clank of his artificial right leg and the brace from his left pinged as he stood and made his way around the table. He looked her over with a critical eye, he sighed and shook his head, "you really do look like hell, kid." His eyes moved over the baby, "are you sure I can't talk you into an au pair?" Tony offered.

They'd had this argument before, just shy of two months into Bucky's undercover assignment: when Nat had left with a whispered promise, Tony began to reduce her hours (not her pay, or her title), he turned her protocols for him against her and barred her from her laptop and from working in the labs without a record of a night's rest. When she was unable to come to the lab for a week because of his lockdown, Tony brought her and the baby up to the penthouse for the evening so that he and Pepper might try their hand at convincing her she needed the help (Pepper was trying to convince Tony that having a baby might not be the worst thing to ever happen to the two of them, regardless of how ragged Darcy looked raising the Aesir child on her own). It hadn't ended well. DUM-E may have actually needed to use the fire extinguisher, if he had been in the penthouse.

"Tony," Darcy threatened, her voice weak with exhaustion.

"I know, but you can't keep torturing yourself like this. We're trying to get him back, but until he is back, you have to think about you too. You're a mother not a mar-"

"I can do this, by myself, just fine," Darcy ground out. "Thor left him with me, in my care, because he knows what it was like for his parents to hand him off to surrogate caregivers. And one parent already abandoned him, I refuse to do the same, regardless if I didn't carry him: he's mine," she snapped. 

Wyborn sniffled against her chest and released a mournful wail.

Darcy sighed and leveled a glare over at her friend. "It's ok war bear, mama's here," she said and moved the two of them into the office. The soft click of the door was the only sound outside for a long time.

Darcy awoke sometime later to a gentle shake and her name from Tony's lips. "Kid, you need to move."

Then the building shook. Darcy could hear the klaxons sound loud from within the lab. 

"What-" Darcy asked dazed as she pulled herself up from her reclined office chair. Pain rippled from her gut and she doubled over in on herself. Wyborn cried angrily from Tony's arms as the flashing lights and sounds swam into focus. Her feet slapped loudly on the tile floor, the building vibrated beneath her soles as she gasped and threw an incredulous glare at Tony, "Why is it your tower that's always under attack?" She spat through clenched teeth. "And why am I the one that's always being told to move?!" She shrieked as an explosion sounded against the windows, they rattled and cracked, and then shattered inward.

Tony spared a glance over his shoulder and shrugged at Darcy as he tried to pull her to her feet, "well, I am Iron Man," he managed weakly by way of explanation. He was outfitted partially in a power suit, his right arm covered in a gauntlet and a chest plate settled over his arc reactor. He handed Wyborn back to Darcy as she shook and threw her head back and forth. Her hand came up to press against the baby's head and she frowned.

"No, Tony, something is wrong, we can't-"

Tony had already begun to lead her out of her office and fired his repulsors at the invasion forces, "Jarvis! Elevator!" He called out over the sound of boots on shattered glass and gunshots fired in their direction.

Darcy stumbled and shook, the pain in her gut alarmed her and sent tendrils of white lightning laced with fear through her abdomen and womb.  _No, no, what is happening?_ Wyborn's gasped breathes between his screams were wet and ragged, and Darcy felt the heat from his little body scorch across her chest.

Tony pushed them inside the elevator but did not join them, "Jarvis, you know where to send them."

"Tony?!" Darcy panicked.

"It will be fine kid, no worries," he said without a look back towards her. As the door closed she saw armor his propelled towards them, and the flash of a dozen men clad in black.

Darcy blinked and the door was open again on the penthouse level. Pepper before her angry and red.  Her hair was loose and skin marbled with the heat of the extremis. "Let's go," she motioned to the distraught woman inside the metal car.

She stumbled forward, another flare of pain ignited inside her. "Where?! Pepper, stop! Something is wrong with me!"

Pepper raised her hand to grasp back at her, but stopped. Storm clouds and lightning swirled outside. "I can't touch you," she finished her attempts to placate the near-hysterical Darcy, as the rainbow bridge opened and touched down on the large balcony outside.

The lights and sounds caught the attention of both woman, Darcy hobbled forward at the sight of her Asgardian companion. "Thor!" She cried in premature relief.

He was not alone, a black-haired female stood resplendent in golden armor next to him, and it took a second for Darcy to place her as Sif. The two warriors raced toward the trio as Darcy, with Wyborn still clutched tight, stumbled and crashed to her knees, then her forearms, the bundle of screaming infant not deterred. Firm hands gripped her on both sides as she was hauled to her feet and dragged back toward the still smoking glyph on the ground.

She screamed out in pain and thrashed her legs in a pitiful attempt to free herself. "Let go! Something is wrong, we're not okay!" She warned frantically.

The wind continued to whip as a black quadcopter strafed around the building, its guns aimed toward the retreating party. 

Lightning surged in the sky as the clouds billowed darker.

Sif's shield blocked them from the onslaught of bullets. Each one pinged off of the metal or ricocheted away from Darcy and the babe.

Thor frowned and then turned, Mjolnir soared from his outstretched hand and collided with the assault vehicle. It broke through the metal and twisted, flew back to its owner; the quadcopter sputtered and fell from the air, rotating dangerously as it plummeted to the streets below. 

He straightened then and moved back to pick up Darcy, his hands steady as he retrieved his child and squeezed his friend tight to his armored chest.

Darcy warbled in pain and delirium, tear tracks stained her flushed cheeks.

Thor's brow furrowed as he felt between the two of them, his eyes widened in equal panic. 

"Here," he said to Sif and reached back to hand her his offspring. 

Sif took the child with no hesitation, but frowned deeply as she felt along the child's face and head. "He is unnaturally warm, Thor," she warned.

Thor had gripped Darcy tightly at her shoulders. "Darcy, you are unwell!" He admonished.

The doors to the balcony blew off of their frames, the glass tinkled against the cement as the metal frames bent violently away from the building. From within the luminescent form of Pepper moved forcibly. Her moves complimented another black form as it fought the enemy within the smoke. A flash of silver was seen.

"Bucky!" Darcy screamed out in pain, her heart ached in longing.

His head moved and he caught sight of them on the balcony.

"Heimdall!" Thor called for the Bifrost.

"NO!" Darcy screamed, her attempts to flee blocked by the golden Aesir.

Bucky appeared through the doors then, ragged, bruised, and running toward them.

Iridescent lights colored Darcy's vision and danced around the four travelers.

"Go!" Bucky yelled when the fight spilled out past the flagged Pepper.

Darcy's vision refocused on the gilded walls and stars beyond the doorway she screamed and pushed against Thor. She smashed her fists on his chest plate and hollered, "you have to go back! You have to bring him here! OW!" She collapsed to her knees, the pain like knives to her belly. She felt something akin to a bubble burst and then wetness spread from between her legs. "What – No, Thor, something is wrong!" She cried, fresh tears in her eyes.

Thor looked troubled between the distraught child and confused female warrior. He scooped up the young woman before him in his arms, the familiarity of this distress alighting his skin with gooseflesh. "Eir!" He bellowed, "the soul forge!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, it's getting harder to write this - for a lot of reasons. Primarily I find myself lacking time, work has picked up and my free time at home is used to decompress, so I'm trying to make sure that I'm in the right head space for this, because I don't want to brush anything off. I want to be thorough and I don't want to really handle this with kid gloves; it's getting a little raw in the upcoming chapters and I know that it's going to piss some people off, because if I've ever learned anything from writing (anything, really) a story of this subject matter: not everyone will like it. It won't fit their experience, or their idea of the experience or how they think should X should have handled Y. It's bound to happen. I kind of get why people delete their accounts and abandon their works, and it's sucks. I want to finish this story and not with a *rocks fall, everyone dies* kind of manner. I want to make it to this ending and the pressure of writing this, and writing this well (to the best that I am able) just makes me want to save the draft a never touch it again. If anyone would be willing to bounce ideas for this off of, or beta or fucking cheer-lead I would love you forever. Seriously. I've got one on deck and half a chapter in the hole that I'll be working on this afternoon (hopefully).


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated tags

The ruddy orange particles of the soul forge projected above Darcy. Tears had leaked from the sides of her eyes into her ears, then soaked her hair behind her; in the corner she could see Sif looked troubled.  The image above her was of herself, she remembered Jane had described the same from her trip to Asgard, but it’s appeal was lost on Darcy. She could see the erratic jump of her heart, the red flare of pain as it skittered through her, and the unmoving child shape in her lower abdomen. A perfect strawberry sized fetus that had no life.

_Pregnant_ , she thought absently,  _I was pregnant._

Eir’s face, which as Jane had told her was impassive and a little haughty, Darcy saw deep lines of concern etched in her aged but beautiful face. There were even some smile lines, but those were not in use now. Her eyes were sad and her mouth was set in a grim line.

None of the women in the room spoke.

When a grunt accompanied one of Darcy's white-hot bolts of pain, Sif stepped forward.

"Is there nothing you can do to ease her struggle?" She looked a little nauseous herself, but had promised Thor she would remain with Darcy while he saw to Wyborn's illness.

_My baby, my son is sick, and I didn't know. I didn't know I was pregnant, and now I won't be. I'm not an excellent mother, I'm a horrible mother._  Black thoughts swam through her mind, viscous and vile, coating her brain and numbing her body.

"Nothing we have here will be suitable for a mortal, Lady Sif," Eir told her quietly, her eyes fell sympathetically on Darcy's prone form. "She must bear the pain unassisted."

She threw up twice during it. The pain overwhelmed her but she welcomed it all the same. She embraced it as penance and punishment and thought blindly to herself,  _you deserve this. This is what you've earned._

Thor returned at one point to let her know that Wyborn had become ill as part of his human-parentage, but it appeared to have worsen more than expected. While all Aesir were immune to illness and disease, humans were not, the simple cold to a human child was crippling to the half-Aesir. It was recommended by the healers that he remain on Asgard until he fully recovered and that perhaps then his father should consider weening him from Midgard and his human-failings. 

Darcy was in no position to say one way or another. She had been drenched in sweat and crying in earnest from the pain.

After, she lay bloody and alone in a grand golden room, a bucket that had been recently emptied of bile near the bedside. 

Thor had come in sometime in the night, lain beside her and tried to console her.

"The healers have told me that you have passed the child. I am truly sorry Lady Darcy," he paused, unable to choose his words for a moment. "I wish to spare you this pain, what can I do?" He asked solemnly. 

Darcy couldn't answer, her brain juggled the options before her:  _take me home, Bucky,_ _Wyborn_ _, take it back, leave me alone._ Silence was the easiest choice from the chorus of voices from the black pool in her mind. She curled in on herself and tried to suppress the whimpers that fought to escape her throat.

Her breasts ached annoyingly. Eir warned that her body would still need to process the hormones from her pregnancy, and that most of the symptoms would remain for a time. Swollen and tender breasts were one of them.

Handmaidens had to force her from her bed daily to bathe her, change the ruined sheets and see to her basic needs. She sat or lay limp most of the day. She refused food and drink, the numbness in her heart seeped into her bones. When the numbness turned to pain, she would sleep and relive the fear in Bucky's eyes as she dissolved in a rainbow, sometimes it was him that left her there. In her dreams she was shot, stabbed, kidnapped, thrown into a metal chair and tortured. Each morning she woke startled and disappointed that it wasn't real. She was still alive and the pain at losing them all ate at her insides like a great beast.

Before the dawn broke over the Biforst, a moment which had bathed the rooms of the palace in colors too many to count, a muffled wail stole to Darcy's ears and ached deeply in her heart.

Thor pressed the door open with a gentle hand, but the sound still ground on Darcy. In his arms was a very red Wyborn, his cries clattered around the high walls and metal furnishings. "His fever has broken, but he remains distraught without his mother, Lady Darcy," Thor whispered as he approached the bed.

Pain lanced through her heart at his distress. She patted her face dry from the tears that had not ceased and gingerly pressed herself upright to sit against the golden headboard. She reached her hands out for Wyborn and Thor placed him in her arms easily with a small sigh of gratitude. She hummed, but her throat cracked and ached, so she tried to shush him instead. He still whimpered and cried, his face thumped against her sensitive boobs, which made her hiss. 

Then her dress felt wet.

From his tears (and hers), his little wet mouth, and the strangest sensation in her breasts which ached and seeped through the fabric shook her. Wide, panic-stricken eyes met Thor’s confusion across the room. “What’s happening to me?” she managed before her tears returned with vengeance. 

Thor bound to the door, skittered into the hallway and cried for a guard to summon Eir.

“Oh child,” Eir began soothingly, when she stroked Darcy’s hair back from her forehead. "You must not worry. Your body appears to be adapting to the shift in your, temperament," Eir said hesitantly.  _Miscarriage_ , Darcy thought bitterly,  _because you were pregnant and your body is a toxic environment._

The black look Darcy shot her cowed the Aesir physician. 

"Is this truly such a bad thing?" Thor questioned from her other side, his hand rested lightly on her shoulder.

Wyborn was silent, as he latched upon his mother's breast, and Darcy didn't have energy to stifle the wince when gummed at her sensitive nipple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not super long, I appreciate all of you guys sticking with me on this. It's not an easy subject. Looks like we're getting some new tags.
> 
> It would have probably helped for me to put my tumblr in the last chapter since AO3 doesn't have a DM/PM system, so if anyone was willing to help me get this one finished (I'm only like one chapter ahead, guys) you can find me at wickedwriter916.tumblr.com and DM me.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends, we're almost to the end. I want to thank everyone who has read, subscribed, left kudos and comments to this story. It has kept me from giving up on it a long time ago. And super shout out to [LadyAztec](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAztec/pseuds/LadyAztec) who has been an amazing sounding board and beta and person to listen to my ramblings about what I want to happen and how I'm going to finish this. I can't wait to keep working with you in the future!

Her chest was at the center of a constant cycle of pain. Her nipples were raw and cracked, often seeping either blood or colostrum, sometimes both. The salve that Eir gave her stung and burned were her skin was broken; her breasts were heavy and ached fiercely, the skin stretched painfully tight to accommodate the new supply of food for the baby. Her existing stretchmarks forked purple and angry, like lightning.

Wyborn, for all he fussed and fought her on the formula, he took to her breast readily. He gained much needed weight, and began the slow climb back to recovery.

Thor spent more time with them both in her chambers, and the experience felt similar to his time with them when Jane had first left, when he had taken to changing and snuggling with his son while Darcy rested. 

But they didn't talk.

Thor longed for conversation. He knew that Darcy was unwell, her moods were unstable at best and unpredictable at worst. He watched her silently cry, hide the tears behind her hair, into her shoulder, the sleeve of her dress. He saw her jaw tighten in pain and anger, those same sad eyes cast baleful looks at the vaulted ceiling as she hissed breathes through her barred teeth. She snapped at the handmaidens, at him. She looked on at Wyborn and cried. Her face undecided between a mask of sorrow and hatred. But she was always gentle with him, held him tightly-but not too tight, and never cast him aside without a disdainful or wary look.

He knew she did not trust the other Aesir, that she gripped him slightly closer in their presence, her eyes followed their movements through her chamber like a wounded creature.

It made it uncomfortable for him. To watch this woman, who he loved as a sister, who he  _could_ love as a wife, look upon his people as potential threats, especially while he resided in the room as well - it spoke of her distrust of  _him_. Her anger he could justify: he had seized her from her world, from her home, when it was bespelled by utter chaos. And he ripped her from the reach of her lover; and he knew that Sgt. James Barnes had succeeded in winning her heart. Heimdall had been tasked with the observation of Lady Darcy and Sgt. Barnes progress on Midgard at Thor's behest. He knew how they clung to one another, how Darcy confronted Jane for her abandonment, how James wrestled the guilt over the loss of his charge during training (regardless that it was not his fault), how they both wanted, needed. How they were betrothed.

He sat in quiet contemplation, his thoughts a magnificent storm of feeling and fleeting thoughts. He was glad that they had found one another, grieved that he had separated them, ashamed for his joy, both at having his son back with him and on Asgard and that he had been the one to rescue Darcy from her plight. He suffered distress at Darcy's hopeless loss, her unending anguish and rage. And he took the blame for it. If he had listened to Heimdall's request for Thor's interference, instead he allowed their choices to guide them. Thor had been against influencing them, against pushing them, his pride at the chance to win her heart true disallowed him from it. He let them achieve each other in their own time.

Perhaps, he waited too long.

She couldn’t call it a fever dream – for as much as she rallied against food and nourishment, whatever she picked at kept her milk supply rolling in. Days passed as she stared comatose off into the moving lights against her wall. Nights warmed by the fire that burned soft orange in the wall sconces and the bowl across the room, Thor's body pressed to hers in effort to stop her tremors.

Then one day he was gone too.

Wyborn's recovery was slow at best. Eir threatened Darcy with his removal to a wet nurse if she continued to refuse a real intake of food.

She ate everything with a blank mask on her face while she railed inside, snarled insults at the old woman in her mind. She agreed with Jane, and the hungry pit of hatred in her stomach gnawed at her.

But her son healed. He gained weight. His colic nearly disappeared. He still cried for his father, and in the dead of night she did as well.

Lady Sif had taken to visiting. It was awkward and neither one of them knew what to say. Darcy didn't think Thor would be pleased with her if she insulted his friend by telling her to fuck off, and Sif had zero experience with children, or birth-sickness. And made it worse for the both of them by the want to, but mutual inability to find their words. 

The long silences grew painful, occasionally interrupted by a baby burp or holler. 

Then Sif began to read. She brought tales of histories, violent and catastrophic. Darcy should have been offended, but it was Wyborn's history too. And also, Game of Thrones.

She might be able to tolerate the warrior woman after all.

When they ran out of books that seemed to interest them both so much, Darcy's voice cracked and croaked over what high school level world history and early American history she could remember. She told him about JFK, and Watergate, and 9/11. Then she told him about his father, of how he was a hero, who sacrificed himself for his country, for their planet, how he couldn't be here with them, as much as she wished that he could. How he loved them dearly.

Sif's eyes remained moist through her recount. He tears spilled over when she realized that Darcy spoke both to the babe in her arms and to the one that she lost.

"Walk with me," Sif said one day upon entering the bedchamber.

Darcy fixed her with a blank stare, ready to deny her. 

The warrior woman strode up to the bassinet, where the young prince, draped in his warm red cloak, slept peacefully with a full belly. He stretched then snuggled tighter into the woman’s collarbone. Heat suffused her face as she covered the babe’s body with her capable hands, her greaves rhythmically tapped across the floor as she hustled from the room.

She spared a glance back and saw that Darcy was, indeed, behind her. 

The women walked in quiet company through the castle and commons, passed fountains and sculptures of green and stone. Darcy's gaze was affixed to the ground, and her brow crumpled tightly together, identical to her half-bitten lips.

The people around them stopped and stared, all offered a range of reactions from slight nods to full bows and deep curtseys. But no one stopped them, or called out to them.

When their destination was finally in sight and they were, at once, alone on the long stretch of the pigmented glass once called the Rainbow Bridge, Darcy cleared her throat.

“Why-why was everyone staring?” She wondered, but her eyes barely made it to Wyborn’s huddled frame. 

“You have been here, in the company of the King of Asgard for some weeks. You raise his child and share his bed, they gave you the proper respect owed to the future Queen," Sif said simply, if not a little cold.

Darcy's face looked pinched tight in pain. "But I'm not. I'm just," she heaved a sigh, her hands clenched into fists that she pushed into her eyes. "I'm a fucking failure, okay?" She rasped, her voice raw and broken around the words. "I am not a good person, I am not a good mother! The only reason why Wyborn is doing any better is because of whatever magic food you've all been shoving down my throat for the past month! He is a such a fussy thing! At home he'd puke and scream and cry and throw up every time I fed him. He never let me sleep and Bucky was the only reason, the only reason I could do this. And I can't do this anymore," she cried. "Not without him."

Sif stopped on the bridge, her eyes fixed critically on Darcy.

They were within feet of the entrance to the golden dome that housed the gateway to the Bifrost. 

"Would you like to return to him?" The warrior asked quietly. "Go back to Midgard and the embrace of your lover?"

Tears welled in Darcy's eyes. "Yes," she sobbed.

Sif was silent and walked onward.

"Hello, my Lady, fair sister," Heimdall greeted as they approached. He faced them with his great golden sword positioned before him.

"Hello dear brother," Sif returned to him with a slight smile.

"How fares our young prince today?" His eyes remained distant, focused steadily on something beyond them.

"He grows stronger everyday he remains under our Lady's loving care," Sif said as she eyed Darcy again meaningfully.

"Excellent," Heimdall replied, his eyes finally settled on Darcy, her shaken form, tear stains still fresh on her cheeks. "Is there something I can assist you with, my Lady Darcy?" The sentry questioned kindly, his voice a deep rumble of concern.

Darcy swallowed audibly. "I want to go home, send me home. Please?" She asked meekly.

Heimdall's head turned to one side, as if he heard a distant cry, but his molten eyes remained fixed upon her. "You wish to return to Midgard?" He asked without judgement, but sadness laced in his tone.

She offered him a wobbly nod of her head, chin tucked to her chest.

Heimdall's face hardened, "I must advise against it, my Lady. Your Sergeant has been, compromised, by the great evil he battles in your honor."

Panic struck through Darcy, like electricity that danced from her chest to her extremities. "What do you mean? I need to go, I need to help him, get the others-"

"Darcy," Sif said, as she laid a hand on her arm to steady her unconscious movement. "If you go, the prince must stay. You cannot take a child into a battlefield. I will not let you take this child and place him in such danger, not while he still maintains a portion of his mortality," Sif told her gravely, Wyborn clutched tight to her breast.

She stopped, bile alight in her throat as images pulsed through her – if she took him from here, she might as well cast him off the rainbow bridge to his death. What could she do to help him? If her choice was Bucky or Wyborn – her heart seized painfully and then sank low. Her tear-filled gaze tore from the gilded floor. She cast one last protracted look to the stars beyond the gateway and turned back to the two solemn-faced Asgardians.

Sif nodded slightly, a kind gesture, "We'll head back to the palace," she said, mostly to Darcy to give her something to focus on.

Darcy reached for Wyborn in Sif's arms, in need of a lifeline.

Sif handed him over gently to the distraught woman.

"Best to take the long way," Heimdall intoned quietly to his sister, mindful of how the distress radiated from Darcy's frame, and how it would look to the people of Asgard.

"I will leave you, if you wish," Sif said at the door to Darcy's chambers; she was emotionally fatigued with the young Midgardian woman and knew not what else could be done to remedy the situation.

Darcy shook her head slightly, her eyes red and cheeks puffy from crying, "Mm-no, Thor's gone and I-" she swallowed thickly. "I don't think that-ahem," she coughed and cleared her throat. There was a pause, where Sif was worried that Darcy would break down again. 

"Can you tell us the story of how you guys lost Volstagg before the Battle of Vanaheim?" She asked, her red eyes hopeful, the corners of her mouth pulled slightly to reveal the first smile that Sif had seen from her since their brief encounter in Puente Antiguo.

The ire that had slowly begun to build, fled from Sif's mind at the first hint of a smile. She gave her a short nod and with a wave toward the door, she sighed with indulgence, "if I must."


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the last chapter: feel like I broke you all! Those reviews! X_X I hope this makes up for it, epilogue to follow soon!

Thor's return from his mission on Midgard was met quietly. In the vacuum of silence after he closed of the Bifrost, Heimdall briefed him on Lady Darcy's breakdown and near departure two moons previous. The king of Asgard was troubled by the news, but listened to the all-seeing sentry's report. Intrigued that she seemed to have found solace and appeared to be recovering well enough, he hastened to the grand palace.

Within Darcy's chambers he found her, Wyborn, and to his mild shock, Sif all curled on the bed. 

Then a blade was pressed to his chest.

The point of Sif's weapon pushed into his chain mail and he stopped all movement. His hands rose slowly, Mjolnir still attached to his belt.

Sif blinked, her eyes slowly focused on the end of her sword, while the sleep fled from her gaze as she looked upon his face. "Thor," she breathed, a heavy sigh of contentment and pleasure.

A familiar feeling flitted through his gut at the sound, and he pressed forward when the blade moved away from his person. He pressed a finger to his lips and whispered, "how are they?"

Sif's head turned back to the two other occupants of the bed with a soft, sleepy smile played at the corner of her lips. "They are well," she replied and moved to gingerly sit up and vacate the bedchamber. "I should go, she will be glad that you've returned," the raven-haired warrior whispered.

"Thor, you smell like ozone and smoke. Go bathe," Darcy rumbled still mostly asleep. "Sif get back over here, you're keeping us warm," she groused.

Sif shot Thor a bemused look and crawled back under the covers.

The warrior king gave her an equally amused smile and moved toward the attached bathing chamber.

When the sun rose warm across the gilded floors, the bed full of Aesir, half-Aesir and human stirred languidly and sated.

Sif stirred, her back warmed by the toned chest of her compatriot. Her sleep-flushed face deepened in crimson as her fingers tightened on the forearm wrapped around her midsection. 

Thor grunted and nestled deeper into the heat from the powerful woman in his arms. His nose found the erratic pulse on her neck and he nudged at it as his hips strained forward into the plush softness of her backside.

Sif groaned in response and pushed her hips backward in encouragement.

"Hey, no sexing in front of the kid," Darcy smirked, her eyes still closed.

Thor chuckled and pulled back from Sif slightly. "Mm, I apologize Darcy," Thor said as he opened his eyes to gaze over the scene before him. Wyborn was stretched out asleep on his front, his face turned toward Darcy's breasts, which looked full and tight. Darcy squinted over at the two Aesir with a playful smile as she stretched and twisted her back with a delicious crack and a moan of appreciation. Darcy returned to scoop up Wyborn as he stirred for his morning feeding.

"Ah, here," Sif sat up and reached for Wyborn before Darcy could gather him. "Let me."

Darcy raised an eyebrow and nodded before she ducked into the bathroom quickly relieve herself.

Sif changed Wyborn's wet pants, and cooed lovingly at him when he giggled as her long fingers tickled his tummy and under his chin.

Thor watched intently, a peaceful smile settled across his face as he lay back and observed the growing bond between the two. 

Darcy emerged from the bathroom soon after, clothed in a wrapped sheath dress and her hair twisted behind her head in a hastily tied braid. "I don't think I'll ever go back to normal clothes, walking around in sheets all day isn't half bad," she joked with a wink to the two occupants still in the bed. 

Sif chuckled and handed Wyborn over to the expectant Darcy; then she reached out and tucked one of the folds tighter at the woman's waist. "There," she nodded her approval. "I'll head out so that you two can catch up," she tossed a look over her shoulder to Thor.

Darcy rolled her eyes and scoffed, "oh please," she leaned around Thor to get a good look at the man still lounged seductively across the bed. "The gardens are pretty unoccupied in the mornings, at least so that I can feed him in peace?" She asked the King of Asgard.

"Well enough," he cleared his throat. "If you are sure, Darcy," he knelt up on the bed and crawled to Sif, his large hands wrapped around the lithe frame of the warrior, his hands moved up to cup her slight breasts where he squeezed and tugged her back against his broad chest; Sif gasped in response, her head rolled back against his shoulder while her hand reached back to latch onto his hip.

Darcy grinned and headed for the door, "oh I'm sure."

"You could stay," Sif offered, an eyebrow raised at Darcy, the invitation genuine. 

Thor looked up in surprise, his eyes eagerly searched Darcy's for hesitance.

Darcy bit her lip and looked down at the gurgling child. "Thank you, Sif, but I'll pass. You two should," she wriggled her eyebrows, "definitely," she emphasized, "talk." And she headed out the door.

Sif let out a low groan as her hand finally grasped Thor's hardened length at the small of her back. 

Thor hummed in protest.

"Guys, by talk, I did mean fuck!" Darcy called from right outside the door. "Okay, going now! Enjoy!" And her footsteps echoed away.

"If you wish for Darcy to join us, I think we could convince her," Thor mouthed into the side of Sif's neck.

She hummed her appreciation, "no, I do not think she will; we've discussed her feelings on you."

"Oh, so it's me that keeps her from our bed?" Thor questioned mock-offended.

Sif chortled as she looked over her shoulder at him, nuzzled her nose along the line of his jaw, "What is this "our bed" you speak of Thor Odinson?" She questioned playfully.

"Hmm, good point," he grumbled before he sheathed himself within her.

At one point the conversation had to have gone like this:

“Lady Sif, you do quite well with Prince Wyborn."

Her answer, joyous and light, spoke, “You are correct; however, if your Grace would like me to grant the young prince with a sibling someday, then you would do best make an honest woman out of me.”

Thor gaped in amused shock.

"Dibs on maid of honor!" Echoed Darcy from a short distance.

And that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts are now open on my [tumblr](http://wickedwriter916.tumblr.com/)! I've got one in the works from an earlier review, so other than that I would like to write something for you all to enjoy!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that hung in there from the start of this, you are amazing and I love you all; for those of you just getting here from reading a completed story (guilty, I'm so guilty of this!) I'm so glad that you've decided to join us on this very difficult and hopefully rewarding, adventure. The end is here, and I hope that you all really enjoy it.
> 
> Again, [LadyAztec](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAztec/pseuds/LadyAztec) thank you dear!
> 
> I'm accepting prompts on [tumblr](wickedwriter916.tumblr.com) for anyone interested.

"Hey kid, how's space?" Tony asked Darcy as Wyborn toddled around the penthouse, the now-mobile child explored the new environment.

"Hey Tony," Darcy said with a smile as she moved into the billionaire's space, then clutched him tightly around the ribs.

He sputtered and fussed for a minute before his hands settled on her shoulders and he squeezed. "I missed you too," he whispered into the crown of her head.

"Is this really your last time visiting?" Pepper asked from the couch, her hands stretched out to steady a pigeon-toed Wyborn as he motored away from her.

Darcy sighed and let go of Tony. "Well, War-bear ages so slowly," she started, "he's five, and I still want him to slow down; but here on Earth? He passes for what, a year? How would he ever make friends? Or go to school?"

Tony, still so fidgety, swayed back and forth, the soft whir of hydraulic joints accompanied his movement as he muttered under his breath, "I had tutors and turned out just fine."

Darcy shot him a withered smile, "keep telling yourself that, Tony," she said as she shot a conspiratorial wink to Pepper.

The elevators opened then, and Natasha stepped out gracefully and her eyes scanned the room critically. "Where is he?" She asked.

At the sound of her voice, Wyborn peeked his head around the corner of the couch with a high-pitched giggle, and then ducked away again.

Natasha smirked and loped to the couch in a crouch, where she sprung on the unsuspecting toddler who squealed and laughed and batted at her tickling fingers. "Noooo, Nat-nat! Mama!"

Darcy smiled and looked on as Natasha swept the child up into her arms, and nuzzled her cheek against his, his hands gripped her cheeks and to hold her close.

"He's gotten so big," Clint commented as he dropped from the air vent next to Natasha. His own fingers reached in to rub the child's tummy in a soothing manner.

Wyborn squawked, like a crow. And Clint cawed right back.

Later, after they had their fill of pizza and cake for Wyborn's first-fifth birthday, Natasha and Darcy had retreated to Darcy's old apartment; where Tony had kept it preserved despite that fact that she had told him that she would be remain on Asgard to raise Wyborn.

"Thank you for bringing more dresses," Natasha said crossly, her fingers ran through the silks and broaches that were lain gently over the backs of Darcy's dining table chairs. 

Darcy laughed, "well, you can tell Clint I said 'you're welcome," she teased, as she remembered how the man's eyes had glazed over at the sight of the then-blonde assassin in Asgardian royal clothing. 

Natasha's smile was slight, but she turned and watched as Darcy searched through the shelves of her books and films, "It really was a nice wedding," she commented easily. "How is the royal couple?"

"Oh, enjoying their honeymoon, I'm sure. Working on more royal babies," Darcy joked. She had told Natasha of how Thor had tried to sneak around the idea about having more kids and Sif had beat him to it. While Sif thought the whole honor of Queen of Asgard was pomp and circumstance, she really had just wanted to spend eternity with Thor; after Darcy's arrival (and rumor mills will run on any planet, really) she knew that everyone thought that  _something_ was going on with her and Thor, or to an extent, her, Thor  _and_ Sif (and not for lack of the couple's attempts). Darcy had declined the pair, she loved them both, but didn't want to enter into that kind of relationship with either.

"Tony's still going to get the hook-up for Netflix in space, right?" Darcy asked somewhat bitterly, an attempt to change the subject from her friends' happiness and the prospect of more children.

The woman rolled her eyes, "yes, Darcy, and he's going to send you a monthly shipment of books. I still can't believe that you've convinced Thor to build you another library," Natasha scoffed.

"Well it's a more of an Annex? Their library is, like the Library of Congress on steroids. They're currently working with Álfheim and Vanaheimr to compile the histories of Yggdrasil and how the different," she looked up to see Natasha mime-dozing-off and Darcy shot her a sheepish look. "I know, I get it, inter-galactic history and culture, not the most interesting subject for a Midgardian assassin."

Natasha lifted an eyebrow, "when did it become Midgard? Is this really not home anymore?" She squinted, watched as Darcy's gaze zoned out, her shoulders drooped.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and refocused on her friend. "I'm just going to finish up packing and get back on the bridge," she thumbed out the window behind her. "Kraglin is going to be by in like," she checked her watch, "a few hours? Or a week, it's hard to pin that guy down sometimes, to, uh, get the trunk and shuttle it up, so."

"Kraglin?" Nat asked skeptically as she visualized the thin ravager, "really Darcy?"

"What? He's a nice enough guy, and at least he didn't try to get into my pants – err dress, like Quill."

Natasha laughed at that, "have you seen Peter lately? Gamora has him on a pretty tight leash, and a collar."

"Oh, I bet he loves it," Darcy laughed.

"Lady Darcy," Jarvis intoned gently. "I believe Prince Wyborn is stirring."

Darcy smiled up at the ceiling, "Thank you J. I'm going to, uh, miss you? In space."

There was a pause and then "It was my genuine pleasure to serve you, Lady Darcy."

Her smile softened as Wyborn warbled from the back bedroom, "Mama? Mama?"

"I better go get him," she said, her eyes wet with unshed tears.

Natasha clutched her fiercely to her and squeezed, Darcy found it wasn't so painful as she thought it might once have been. "Good luck," she said.

Darcy withdrew and held firmly onto the woman's forearms. "I promise it's not morbid, but we don't say goodbye on Asgard, and I won't say it here," she cleared her throat. "I will see you, in Valhalla."

Natasha took in a shaky breath to steady herself and gave the woman a firm nod.

Darcy turned to get Wyborn and gave Natasha the chance the collect herself and exit in barely contained peace.

As Natasha opened the door, she quickly drew her hand away from her moist eyes and gave a slight glare to the man who stood across the hall. "Are you going to say anything or are you going to stalk around and miss your opportunity?" She hissed quietly in Russian.

Bucky frowned and hesitated at the door, "I don't know," he mumbled, brows nearly crossed-deep in furrow.

"You're an idiot."

"Who's Kraglin?" He asked, "is he," he swallowed. "Is he a good man?"

Natasha rolled her eyes.

Darcy cleared her throat from behind Natasha, Wyborn cuddled on her hip, his head lain on her shoulder as he watched the exchange in front of him. "All-speak is a thing guys," she snarked.

Bucky blanched and shuffled his feet, his eyes fixed on the floor.

Natasha stiffened but moved past, him, her goodbyes already made.

Darcy stared at him for a few minutes, the silence awkward as fuck.

"Papa?" Wyborn asked as he raised his head and reached a hand to Bucky.

The man's head snapped up, his shoulders tight and his features anxious.

"Hello, War-bear," he said, voice gravelly from disuse.

Wyborn reached more frantically to Bucky as he took a tentative step forward into the apartment. Darcy set him down and Bucky crouched as the toddler flew into his arms. "Oomph!" He exclaimed as he needed to take a step back to keep from being toppled.

"You are an absolute idiot. And I want to fight with you," Darcy said with a finger leveled in his direction, before her ire and frustration gave way to tears. "I get cryo after Hydra, I get deprogramming. But 'is he a good man?'!? Are you fucking kidding me, Bucky," she sobbed.

"Sweetheart, I-" he stood up and moved toward her.

"No! Did you really think that I would find someone else!? That I would want anybody else?" She shook her head, hands up defensively.

"I hurt you so bad. I know, sweetheart, about the baby; and I don't deserve a second chance, an' you should go. You should absolutely go an' never come back," he shook his head which caused his own tears to spill down his cheeks.

"Don't, please, don't you dare push me away," she pleaded, her heart wrenched in her throat and she whimpered.

Wyborn clung to Bucky's neck and shook his little head, strained to hold on to him, "No Papa, come!"

"But I made you a promise-" Bucky said, and everything stopped. Wyborn's huccups softened.

Darcy took a deep breath, that rattled in her throat, she exhaled and said, "I swear to fucking-god Barnes, if you-"

"Sweetheart, woul' ya just let me get it out?" He said as he dropped to one knee, Wyborn cradled tightly to his torso.

She choked and stooped, nearly dove into his arms. "I love you, I love you," she wailed.

Bucky's arm wrapped around her, "sweetheart," he groaned at the feel of her pressed against him after all this time. "I got you that ring."

The setting sunlight glittered gently off of the sparkling water that surrounded Asgard, refracting vibrant colors along the bannister and into the small courtyard below. Darcy had to squint slightly against it to watch Bucky playing catch with the twins.

"Ok, time to go inside and get cleaned up, your Mom is going to kill me if you show up to another royal event with you two looking like something the bilgesnipe dragged in," Bucky warned them, holding the ball aloft so that they couldn't reach it.

Their groans and complaints rose above to Darcy's ears, but Bucky shooed them away with, "hey, if you can beat me back to your bedroom, then I'll convince your Mom to let you wear what you want," he bartered.

They took off running before he could sneakily smirk. He glanced up, catching eyes with an exasperated Darcy and winked before he took off at a run for the wall. He climbed, hand over hand, up the side of the wall to the balustrade, and over onto the balcony.

Darcy fixed him with a radiant grin at his antics, and he leaned in to press a fast kiss to her lips.

"After the ceremony's over, and the kids are in bed, wha'ya say we go out on the town, try and find that little tavern," he said resting an elbow on the bannister and giving her a smoldering look.

Darcy eyed him up and down and dismissed him, "hm, I'd much rather you chase me up into the hills to those hot springs we found that one time," she said with a delicate raise of her brow.

His elbow slipped on the banister, "oh?" He said, eyes widening. "I think that was what got us the twins," he mused, his own eyebrow raised. 

A knock sounded on their chamber door.

Darcy gave Bucky a heated look, "oh, I know it did," she said before turning to answer it.

He reached for her hand and tugged her back toward him to slant his mouth over hers. "Mm," he hummed, "you have mentioned that you missed having babies."

Darcy laughed and pulled away, "you've finally caught that, have you?" She teased as she opened the door.

Before her, the familiar angled face of a young man, long sandy hair tied back in a knot stood with his arms folded regally behind his back.

Darcy smiled lovingly at him, "Hello Prince Wyborn, what can I do for you?"

He cleared his throat, seemingly aware that he had nearly interrupted something, "I've come to escort you to the throne room."

Bucky smiled at the two of them, the sound of pattering footsteps racing down the hall, "there are the twins," he said to Darcy with a grin.

"Aww, Papa!" They groaned, seeing him already in their mother's room.

"Vex, Vax," Darcy addressed her youngest, "your clothes are laid out on the bed," she said with a wink to the girl and boy.

"How does he always beat us?" Vex complained as she trudged inside.

"At least I beat you!" Vax cawed from beside his sister.

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

Their argument rang down the halls as Darcy took Wyborn's arm and he lead her away from her chambers.

The moved in silence, passing guards and other Aesir on their way to the throne room.

"I am quite proud of you, you know. You've grown up to be a very compassionate young man," Darcy told him.

He blushed, much like his father, faintly and with a self-depreciating smirk on his lips. "Only because I was raised by an amazing woman."

Darcy hummed her approval, "Sif really did do well," she mused.

"I was talking about you Mom," he said, and stopped to pull her off to the side of the hall, "Queen Sif is my Mother, but you will always be my Mom. You are the one who watched me from infancy, you and Papa gave me life," he said sincerely.

Darcy's eyes misted and she shushed him as she reached up to wipe away her tears. "Oh hush, you're going to make me ruin my face."

Wyborn chuckled lightly, "you always look beautiful Mom, trust me," he said, pulling her hands away.

Her lips trembled and she pulled him into a tight embrace. "I love you too, bear."

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](wickedwriter916.tumblr.com)


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